Hate is Such a Strong Word
by cupid-painted-blind
Summary: My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. Over my dead body. [better summary inside]
1. Helloooo, Armageddon

**(A/N: Marauder story, y'know. I have no idea how long it'll be, but whatever. Lily's PoV. I tried to make it funny. Review if you like. Even if it's just to tell me that I'm not funny at all.  
Forgive the name.**

A/N as of 11 May: I've noticed that nearly one-third of the people who read the first chapter don't go on, so I figure it has something to do with this chapter being a little bit… odd. I swear, it gets better. I was really out of it when I wrote this chapter (like, sleep-deprived and subsisting on caffeine out of it), so it's crazy and I've been trying to edit it. Please don't be turned off by the insanity of this chapter.) 

_Summary: _My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body. __

Disclaimer: HA!  
  


**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter One: Helloooo, Armageddon.

I hate the world. With a burning, fiery passion. If I knew how, I'd be wishing a few Black Deaths upon the world right about now.

In fact, I am. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, Armageddon would have struck and Snape can kiss my foot for all I care after that. Then again, this being Armageddon I'm talking about, I don't think there'd be a foot for Snape to kiss. Come to think of it, there probably wouldn't be a Snape to kiss it either. Or anything else, for that matter.

Actually, if Armageddon came, I might just end up whimpering in some corner of the common room, muttering nonsense about yellow snowdrifts and beating someone up with a stuffed cat. I do that when I get nervous, start saying weird things. I once confessed my entire life story, complete with gruesome details about the time I got the "birds and the bees" talk from a random stranger in the tube because I asked him how to find a restaurant and he thought I asked to go home with him, to a dying parakeet because I was worried about it and wanted to make it live.

It keeled over and died before I even finished my story. Which should tell anyone just how mind-numbingly boring my life really is.

But the fact that my life story has been known to bore a parakeet to death is not important. What is important is the fact that Armageddon can hurry up and kick Snape into the next millennia (while ignoring me) so I don't have to waste my energy on it. It takes a pretty awesome kick to reach the next millennia, you know, and I need my strength for Quiddich.

Because I play it.

Yes.

All the time.

Every day, in fact.

I fit it into my schedule in between lying through my teeth and looking like a geek in the library. But anyway, I'd have to kick him pretty hard, and drop-kicking greasy Slytherins really isn't my thing. So, I want Armageddon to attack him for me, as I'm totally sure God (or Great Spirit if that's your thing) would just say, "Okay, Lily, here's the apocalypse, just for you, so you can get revenge on a greasy git who annoys the hell out of you."

Or not.

Anyway, thanks to Mr. I-Never-Wash-My-Hair-Because-I-Suck-And-Somehow-Think-This-Makes-Me-Look-Intellectual-Or-Hot-Or-Interesting-Which-It-Doesn't-But-I-Have-Such-A-Huge-Stick-Up-My-Arse-That-I-Can't-Tell-That-I-Look-Like-A-Disgusting-Idiot-Nor-That-I-Act-Like-A-Slimy-Bastard, I have two detentions.

Okay, so maybe the name was a bit much, but when I get mad, I usually turn completely incomprehensible (it's that redhead temper, ya know), so be glad I even came up with something other than random screams and inarticulate yells (complete with the oh-so-wonderful voice breakage. Oh, that's nice). Anyway, Mr. Bastard got me two detentions. With Slughorn, which is disturbing in and of itself. In fact, my friend Jenn says that Snape really didn't do anything much, but Slughorn just wanted to get me alone with him.

When God grants me mercy and lends me the apocalypse, Jenn is going to be the first to go.

But now, I'm starting to think there may be something to it. I never thought of it before, but he does fawn on me an awful lot, and he's always inviting me to his stupid Slug Club parties. First couple of years, I went to be polite, but then I grew a brain (or the will to survive just took over) and I started making up excuses.

I went through the good ones pretty fast, though, so now I'm on joining an underground cult that worships slugs and one of the cardinal rules is that I not fraternize with anything involving the sacred word.

So it's not my best idea. At least it got him to leave me alone, even though he sent me a business card from the Spell Damage ward of St. Mungo's. At least it wasn't a get-well card.

Anyhow, I've got two detentions with Slughorn next week, all because Snape and his stupid, uh, Snape-ness had to go and point out the homework from yesterday (an essay on some crap or other that I didn't do because I, uh, forgot), so Slughorn gave me a detention. I think Snape somehow knew I didn't have it either, because when I started panicking about it, he gave me this crazy look like he was gloating or something. It kind of made him look like a puffer fish, you know, those poisonous Japanese things that freak out when you touch them and suddenly poof into balloons. So, I was showing Jenn my lovely drawing of Severus "Blowfish" Snape, when Slughorn spotted it.

And gave me another detention and reprimanded me about not making fun of my fellow students. The worst part is, looking back, I think I saw this odd gleam of joy or something in his eyes when he did it, so I might have to enlist bodyguards.

And I still have to do the homework I neglected and turn it in tomorrow or face yet another detention. The man's either a sadist or pedophile, and I'm not sure which is worse. 

"Heeeeeellooooooo, Lily!" I whip around, getting this awful crick in my neck when I do it, too. In fact I might have broken something. Anyway, there's Jenn, looking a little too happy. "What are you doing to the table?" So I've been having some fun with a knife and an apple. Sue me.

"Nothing." And it's back to apple stabbage I go.

"Then what's all this white stuff on the table?" Okay, maybe there isn't much apple left to demolish, but I've been at it for an hour, fuming all the while, so forgive me. "Is that… Is that apple?"

"It was."

"Why are you killing the poor, defenseless apples?" Jenn deadpans. Maybe I should explain something. Jenn likes nature well enough and all, but ever since Jenn's mother turned mondo-hippie-tree-hugger, we've both had a little more than our fair share of fun with it. In fact, it's borderline sickening how much fun we have with Mrs. Defunkto (Okay, so her name's really DeFacta, another strange thing she picked up, but Defunkto is a perfect nickname for her. And her real last name is Roberts, and that's what Jenn's name is. But for some reason, Jenn's mother though DeFacta was better. I hear she came across the phrase "de facto" in a dictionary somewhere and misread it but made it her legal last name anyway. I blame it on drugs. Jenn's dad calls it "groovy" and I wonder just how desperate they are to regain their youth. Jenn has a strange family.)

"Because they look like Slughorn."

"Slughorn looks like a random smattering of mushy whiteish pulp?" I glare at it, then in the vague direction of Jenn, which harder than it looks because she's behind me and I can't twist my body that far around without permanently damaging anything too important. I tried it earlier, remember? Yeah, pain is still there.

"He will when I'm through with him."

"Wow, Lily, gonna shag him that hard?" Before Jenn can rescind her foul and horrific statement, I've scooped up all of the apple mush and, standing up so I can actually face her, rubbed it into her hair.

What?

It'll come out eventually, and besides, guys like apple scent. I'm halfway to the portrait hole when Mr. Next-On-My-Armageddon-List himself comes through the entrance: Sirius Black.

Don't get me wrong. Sirius is fine (okay, so he's _really_ fine, but that's not what I meant), but he's kind of annoying. And by kind of I mean really. And he has this weird infatuation with dogs, every female on the face of the planet, and suits of armor. I hear he even smuggled one into his dorm. And he's taken to asking me out on behalf of his little friend Potter _every freakin' day_. Let me say, that got old about 5 years ago.

Except, when Potter asked me out, he at least made a fool of only himself. No, Sirius goes and makes me look like an idiot by pulling some prank or something and then says he'll stop if I agree to go out with Prongs.

I'm sorry, but any guy whose nickname involves the horns on a deer has got to be a total loser.

Unfortunately, I'm the only one who thinks this.

"Hey, Lils, do you… want… to…" He breaks off, staring at Jenn with an odd look in his face. "Uh, Roberts? Do I even want to know what that is?"

Jenn is still gaping at me with this sort of, I dunno, fury in her eyes. But she snaps out of it and I know, oh I know, I'm going to regret my apple attack. In fact, here it comes, vindication on the part of Jenn, 3… 2…

"It's Lily's revenge," Hmm, not so bad. "Because I figured her and Slughorn out." Okay, so bad. She's saying this to Sirius Black. It'll be all over the school in an hour.

"Huh?"

"JENN!" I yell and turn to her before realizing that this could be my one chance to make them leave me alone. Desperate times, right? "You weren't supposed to tell anyone! That's a SECRET! I hate you, you're such a horrible friend!"

Lily's Acting Skills: Worse than the cat's litterbox. But, judging by the look on Jenn's face (utter and total disgust) I fooled her. I'm giving her the ultra-secret eye-motions to say that it's all a ploy, but Jenn can't read ultra-secret eye-motions and, pissed off as she is, she probably wouldn't care even if she could.

"W-a-a-a-a-it a second…" And it dawns on Black's face. For a second, he looks repulsed, but then he seems to get it. Damn. "Oh, ha ha. You're a really shit actor, Evans. Anyway, I was going to ask if you wanted to go out with James, but I guess you'll have to get ready to meet Slughorn." And he walks up to his dorm, laughing at his own (not-funny) joke.

Jenn gives me a weird look. "What was that about a secret?"

I just sigh and head up to my own dorm to wash the apple guts off my hand. I hate the world.

--

Sure enough, an hour after previous conversation, the rumor mill at the school had churned out that Lily Evans is sleeping with/madly in love with/adores/snogs in her spare time/wants to sleep with Professor Slughorn.

I hate Sirius, but then again, this could be Jenn. That woman can be vindictive. And you wouldn't think it to look at her. I mean, she's short. And she's the prime example of a ditzy blonde. And I'm sort of tallish, sort of not-ish, red hair, green eyes, la dee dah, Irish and all, ya know. Except that I'm British and I don't think anyone in my family is Irish.

Wow, I get off topic about every fourth word. Actually, it's more like 19th, but still. And there it is again. Off topic by the 9th word. I must be getting better at it.

Anyway, the whole school thinks there's something between me and Sluggy, and I feel rather mentally violated if I do say so myself. Actually, I don't think that's the right way to use that phrase but I like it, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, I think I need to go to sleep before the house-elves attack me, something which, sadly, has happened before. It was a painful experience, and I still have nightmares of the incident. I swear, those things hate me.

Actually, looking at the house-elves that are crowding around me (4 AM in the common room with the essay otherwise known as death is fun. And by fun I mean not. House-elves scare the crap out of me), that's not so much a stretch.

But, yeah. I'm apparently Slughorn's secret lover. I was approached by no less than 30 underclassmen wanting know exactly where they could get these drugs. I told them to piss off and shut up. Which probably incited rumors that I'm pregnant or something.

Oh, God. That's a terrible mental image.

Jesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesusjesus.

I hate the world.


	2. The Mundane Life of Lily Evans, Day One

**(A/N: Ahh, what the hey. I'm writing for me anyway, who cares about a whopping zero reviews? But if you feel like reviewing, go ahead. Make my day.) **__

Summary: My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body. __

Disclaimer: HA!

--

**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Two: The Mundane Life of Lily Evans, Day One

I really, really, really hate these stupid curtained beds. Everyone else talks about how cool they are and how awesome it is that you can have total privacy and all that crap, but I hate them. For one, I get caught in them when it's 4:30 AM and I'm trying desperately to fight off total physical collapse before falling into bed. Also, when it's 4:30 AM and it's pitch black and all the curtains are closed and I don't realize that I've stumbled up the wrong staircase, the stupid curtains prevent me from realizing this until I've already pulled them back on what I thought was my bed, only to see Peter Pettigrew, cuddling a really beat-up looking teddy bear and mumbling something about cheese. It causes yours truly to turn somewhat pissy.

All thanks to the stupid curtained beds.

So, I'm not in anything resembling a good mood. And, as it's 7 and everyone's waking up, I've spent the past 15 minutes subjecting my friends to my typical rants about how much I hate things. A Lily running off of a mere 2 hours of sleep is not a happy Lily under any circumstances, but I'm in a particularly bad mood today. And my detentions start tomorrow. Why not tonight, I don't know. I try not to question how Slughorn's mind works.

"Lily, if you don't shut up, we're going to have to make another list. Can you stop being so pessimistic for at least one day so we can all get some peace?" says Marlene as I'm in the middle of ranting about how much I hate Peter Pettigrew. Don't ask me why, I'm tired. It's my excuse for all things on days like this. Oh, and I should probably explain about "the List".

Last year, Marlene, Jenn, and Allie, my roommates, all got together and created "the List". It's a gigantic testament to all things I have at some point claimed hatred of, and it's all over the room. Random rolls of parchment can be found saying things like "Lily hates pumpkins" (they're foul, I can't see why anyone would like them) and, when space was limited, they might just say, "Lucius Malfoy" or "House-elves". At last count, we had 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups (it's really strange when you're trying to wash your mouth out after brushing your teeth and glance at the cup to see "Lily hates Potions"), 6 napkins (which are threatening to fall apart), 2 t-shirts (which Jenn sometimes wears to sleep), and about 874,989,453,276 random bits of parchment which have turned up all over the school. I even found one lodged in between the seats at the Quiddich pitch. It said "James Potter," though I can't recall exactly what he did at the Quiddich pitch to make me proclaim my hatred for him (again).

It wasn't the first time I've claimed to hate him.

Anyway, Marlene (who looks well-rested, which is just irritating me more) is getting pissed off at me because of about a thousand reasons, but she claims that I'm too "negative" and "pessimistic" and if I was more "loving" and "optimistic" then my life would be better. She's been saying it for the past 5½ years, ever since we've been in the same room, so I've learned to just tune her out.

Eh… I used to contemplate actually, you know, being positive, but it's more fun to be a jackass. Nobody bothers you when you're a negative bitch. And it helps because I have such a vast repertoire of biting comebacks for when she says things like that. Unfortunately, my brain really hasn't turned on yet, and I can't even think straight. Seriously. I tried to brush my hair with my toothbrush.

By the time I come up with a good retort, though, she's already gotten into the shower and is ignoring me. God, I hate sleep deprivation. Anyway, I stick my tongue out in her general direction and tell her no.

Because she can hear me in there.

Over her obnoxious singing.

It's all we hear in the morning. "LOVE SHACK, BABY, LOVE SHACK!" I hate the B-52's, but even I could handle it, if only she knew more than those 5 words of the song. Apparently I'm grumbling, too, because Allie has to go and give me her input.

"What is Lily hating now?" Allie mutters from under covers. Oooh, I hate her right now. She gets to sleep in while I have to sit here, looking like a sunburned zombie and debating the pros and cons of stapling my eyelids open. It's the only way I'll make it through Transfiguration.

"I zoned out at house-elves. Has she shut up yet?" Jenn says as she flops onto her bed. "Oh, good." She yawns. Bitch. "I am so tired. I was up till one in the morning, working on that stupid Charms essay." Oooooh. Up till _one in the morning! _She must be bloody _exhausted!_ "Lily, shut it, I don't want to hear it. I already know you were up till 4:30 AND I already know that you went up the wrong staircase and nearly attacked Peter Pettigrew when you realized you weren't in your room."

I hate her.

…

You know, maybe I really should stop being so negative.

…

Nah, my way's too much fun.

"If you zoned out at house-elves, then how do you know that? I was grumbling about them before I got into the story about the curtained beds and Pettigrew. Did you know he sleeps with a teddy bear?"

"You really need help for that ADD, Lily." Big flickin' deal. And I don't want to get help for my ADD. I don't want to even imagine what my life would be like without my distractions. I'd probably actually… _do _my work on time, instead of at breakfast. The horror!

Wow, that was really cheesy. Overuse of a phrase that really was never even remotely humorous doesn't make it funny when you keep using it.

The rest of the day passes in a slight haze. I mean, I was halfway through this really interesting-looking drawing of… something, when I realized that I was doodling on my desk. I'm not sure what it was, but it was the best art I've ever done. Which is sad, because the doodle looked sort of like that drawing of me that my 4-year-old cousin did, when he had my hands sticking out of my neck and my leg coming out of my nose, and I told him he could be a regular Picasso. Poor kid. He cried when he figured out what Picasso's art looks like. I had to explain to him that it was just a different type of art, and a lot of people really thought it was beautiful and that he was an amazing artist, really. It didn't really help. I'm not so great with crying kids.

Of course, I lost 10 points from Gryffindor when McGonagall spotted my art. Talk about staring death in the face. She screamed at me for 5 minutes straight, then told me to clean it off and that if she ever caught me "defaming school property" again, I'd have detention.

So, naturally, since then, Potter and his cronies have been asking me if I'd defamed any school property lately, and all sorts of other dumb jokes.

"Hey, Evans, gonna draw on anything else?" Case in point… It's really getting annoying.

"Potter, you know what you can go do with yourself?" I hiss, silently berating myself for falling back on the crappest retort in the world. I can't think today, okay!

"No, why don't you tell me?" He says, and falls into step with me and Jenn, grinning, and putting his arm around my shoulders. I hate him. I hate him so much.

"Because I have decency, Potter, unlike you." With that, I grasp his wrist and shove it off my shoulders, which is harder than it sounds. "Now, if you'll please just go fuck off and leave me alone, I'd be really pleased."

"Not up to your usual standard today, are we, Evans? Usually, you're cussing me out by the third word. What's wrong, spent too long up in my dorm staring at me last night?"

"Oh, yes, Potter. You know I just can't get enough of you. I have to sneak up into your dorm and ogle at you when you're asleep." I say, my words dripping with sarcasm.

"Yeah, I know. But seriously, what _were_ you doing in my dorm last night?" Okay, so I probably would lose, hmm, no face if just told him the truth, but that would be admitting to James Bloody Potter that I can't even find my way to my own dorm. I cast around for an excuse to get away from him and spot a bathroom. Thank God for toilets.

"Oh, look. The bathroom. If you'll excuse us…" And I grab Jenn and drag her into the bathroom with me, realizing too late that there's an OUT OF ORDER sign on the door.

"You're just trying to escape the question. I'll figure it out." He calls through the door. "Have fun with Myrtle!"

Aaah, shit. This is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"_Why _do you hate him so much? He's amazing!" Jenn hisses, as soon as his footsteps are gone.

"Amazing? _Amazing_? You call that _amazing_? He is not amazing, he's annoying, and I'm sick to death of him!" Here we go again. Attempt To Hook Lily Up With James Potter Number 865. And that's an exact count. I've kept it.

"You. Are. Insane! He's really a great guy, he's a Quiddich player, he likes you, and he's so hot, I swear he was _steaming _back there!" Before I can catch myself, I laugh.

"So hot he was steaming? Jenn, you need help in getting over these dumb clichés. And he isn't a great guy, have you seen the way he treats other people? Who cares about Quiddich? Wow, he can throw a ball through a hoop. Big frickin' deal. I don't think he likes me, he's just doing this to rile me, and he isn't all that hot." Okay, so that last one was a bit of a lie. He is hot. Like, really hot. In fact, he's so hot, I can almost ignore the fact that he's an ass. Problem is, he knows he's hot. And he flaunts it. And it's how stuck on himself he is that really pisses me off.

So no. Lily is not going for hot.

"_Isn't all that hot!_ Have you gone blind? Did your eyes fall out? Have you even seen James Potter in the past 5½ years? He is so incredibly fine, I swear –"

"Jenn. Don't even start. I don't want to hear it. Let's get out of here before… Oh, hello, Myrtle!" I finish brightly, as the ghost pops up in front of me. Shit. I really don't want to mess with Myrtle now.

"Before what?" She pouts.

"Before… Before…" I'm stuck. I can't think of any excuse, and she'll flood the world if I don't.

"Before Potter gets back." Jenn interjects, trying to save me. It apparently didn't work, because she's still sniffling. "What's wrong, Myrtle?"

"At least boys _like _you! They never even looked at me!" AHA! Someone more pessimistic and annoying about it than I am. But now she's crying, and we have to run before we get completely soaked through. With my luck, though, I get a huge splash of water, all over the front of my robes, so it looks like my bladder committed mutiny and tried to drown me or something.

And I don't remember any drying spells.

Today is so not my day.

But there's Shepherd's Pie for dinner (a lovely dish), which almost makes me forget the fact that I'm drenched and that there's pumpkin juice in front of me, instead of the tea I asked for back in first year. The house-elves don't usually forget, it's only when they're really pissed off or the specific elf I asked is sick or something. I don't remember doing anything to piss them off last night, but then again, I don't really remember last night, so I probably called them munchkins or something.

Don't call the house-elves munchkins. They really hate that.

Yes, I know this from experience. No, I'm not going into detail.

Let's just say that I was so desperate by the end of the day that I would have gladly smuggled food from Marlene's stash under her bed, and all she has under her bed are pumpkin pasties. Yes, it was that bad.

By the time dinner is over, I can feel my throat cracking and breaking, like those pictures you see of the desert where it's just a vast expanse of golden with random cracks all through it and the random tumbleweed, just before John Wayne walks in with spurs and all.

Actually, I don't know if John Wayne wore spurs or not. I really don't watch Westerns, um, at all, but he played a cowboy. He had to wear spurs. In fact, all I know about John Wayne is that he had that weird, drawling voice, and said "There's only room for one of us in this here town" or something like that.

Then again, I could be totally off. I mean, for all I know, that was a line in a song about breaking up with a jackass boyfriend. Really. I don't know much about Westerns.

Back on topic (maybe I really do need help with my ADD), I am really thirsty, but I'm kind of scared to go to the kitchens. I mean, I don't know what I might have said to those elves, and when they're mad, they're little Satan incarnates. Not to mention, the last time I went in there, they crowded around me and I don't do so well with crowds. And by that I mean I get really claustrophobic and have been known to start screaming. Loudly. Part of the reason I don't like house-elves.

It isn't my fault they have to move in freakin' packs. I don't mind one so much, but when I look up and all I see is an ocean of pointy ears and giant eyes just _staring _at me… I can't help it if I lose my head.

ANYWAY. Wow, I get off topic so much. I swear, I can't even remember what I was trying to say.

All I know is that I'm thirsty and too scared to ask the house-elves why I got pumpkin juice instead of tea. I usually spend my evening being a geek in the library because I'm about the only person in the world who finds history interesting and I've been known to sneak in after hours so I can finish reading about some wizard or witch in the 12th century. Don't comment, please.

I know I have no life.

So, it's off to the library I go, but who do I run into, but Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. Everyone seems to think that I should be more civil to Lupin than to the others in that group (I know they call themselves the "marauders" but that's a load of crap. A marauder is someone who plunders and wreaks total havoc, which they aren't. My hamster is a better marauder than Sirius Black. And I don't even own a hamster.), but Lupin loses all respect because he hangs out with them. Such potential, all _wasted_. It's saddening, yes.

"Well, hello, Evans. Care to explain what you were doing in our dorm last night?" Sirius says, smirking. Wait a second. How the hell do they know it was me up there?

"What makes you think I was in your dorm?"

"James."

"He said I was in your dorm? And what does he know?"

"He didn't. He was trying to tick you off and you said you were in our dorm." Lupin says. DAMMIT. I hate them. I hate them so much.

"When was this, pray tell?" No need to make it easier.

"Earlier. You also said you couldn't get enough of him, so you had to sneak up to our dorm and ogle at him when he was asleep. Really, Evans, you should learn to control yourself." Both Lupin and Sirius laugh and walk off before I can retort. Jackasses.

I hate my life.


	3. Lady Luck, what the hell?

**(A/N: Thanks to chunky-01**** and Zippy-Wings for their reviews. Thanks also to official cheeky devil for putting this story on his/her favorites. Bet you all thought I didn't check. Yes, I'm pitiful enough to check the stats and pray for another hit. I have no life. Anyway, loves to all reviewers and – hopefully – future reviewers. Bluish, purplish, button down at the bottom, please.) **

_Summary: _My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

_Disclaimer: HA!_  
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Three: Lady Luck, what the hell?

Well, this is death.

Organizing Slughorn's private stores of Potions ingredients. With him hanging over my shoulder, explaining where everything goes and exactly how he's going to help me make in life after Hogwarts. Oh, and every other word I hear is "OHO!" Who does he think he is, Father Christmas? My God, If he doesn't shut up in the next three seconds…

"Now, Lily, you need to work in Magical Law Enforcement. Lots of Charm work there, and that's your specialty!" Don't make the joke, don't make the joke, don't make the joke… "Just a charmer, aren't we, Lily! Hohohohoho!" Aaaaaaargh!

I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him…

"Oho! The bezoars! They go outside in the student stores, actually, if you could just put those there." I grab the stupid little stones and rush outside, hoping to escape Father Christmas. Though, I must admit, I never thought Father Christmas would act like a pedophile walrus. No luck. He's following me. Maybe he'll get stuck in the doorway and I can run away and never come back.

What I wouldn't give…

Damn.

"You see, Lily, I know a bunch of people in Magical Law Enforcement. Brunhilda McMullan, for instance. Put her there myself, she'll give you a job, just say the word, m'dear, and I can have you working with the Ministry as a summer job." I'd rather tear my own heart out with a spoon.

"Actually, sir, I didn't really plan on taking a summer job, and anyway, isn't it a bit soon to be looking for a job? I'm only halfway through sixth year." Say yes. Say it is, and say that you'll just leave me alone and shut the hell up before I gouge out your eyes and pull your spleen out through your throat.

"Ahh, it's never too early to start looking for a job, Lily. Never too early." Hmm, apparently he hasn't noticed the odd twitch I've developed over the past _four freakin' hours _I've been in this detention. Let him just die. Just keel over and die and remove me from my current torture. Please, God, please. I'll do anything.

"Well, I'm not really looking now." I fake a yawn, hoping that maybe he'll take the hint.

"Oho! Will you look at the time! That's all for tonight, Lily, m'dear. You can go back to your tower now." Haleluia. Haleluia. Oh, Haleluia. I'm so happy I could cry.

"Goodbye, Professor."

"Goodbye, Lily!"

And good fucking riddance.

--

Well, it's midnight, I'm exhausted, and I haven't finished my Transfiguration homework, so it looks like I'll be up at 4:30 again. Hopefully I won't walk into the wrong dorm this time. I don't think I could live with Potter's teasing if I did.

Not that I can now, but that's beside the point. I walk into a secret passageway, and there he is. Oh joy, oh joy, oh happy day. How the hell does he know where I am all the freakin' time?

"Well, hello there, Lily! What a pleasant surprise!" Do I look pleased? No. I am not pleased, nor is this a _pleasant _surprise. This is about as pleasant a surprise as the time my sister bribed the doctor into telling me I had syphilis when I was 14. In front of my parents. Turns out, I really had the flu, but my parents wouldn't listen to my insistence that I did not have an STD as that would have involved sexual activity, something that only people with a life engage in, which I do not, sadly, own. They still send McGonagall letters, insisting that they know my every move around school. Where they get the owl, I'll never know. I'm beginning to think they bought one. Which is really strange, my parents being muggles. I can't fathom how they would have gotten an owl without me being there. Not to mention the distinct lack of wizarding funds.

Anyway, yah. Really not a good time for Potter to show up.

"What the hell do you want?" You know, I never thought I could feel such hatred as I do right now. I thought Slughorn was bad enough, but this is just sick. What did I ever do to piss off the gods?

"Finished your detention with Sluggy, then, have you?"

"Yes. As a matter of fact, I'm going to bed right now."

"Well, then, I'll just go with you." The grin on his stupid face makes his meaning evident. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

"Afraid not, Potter. I think I can find my own way."

"Oh, can you?" Jackass.

"Yes. Unfortunately for you, I am not as drunk as all of the other women who somehow find you attractive enough to sleep with you. Terribly sorry." He looks stunned for a moment, then regains his composure.

"I do not have to get a girl drunk to get her to sleep with me, Evans. Besides, I'm not the one who does that all the time. That would be Sirius."

"Ah, so Sirius is the pimp of the Marauders. Does that make you his bitch? Or is that Lupin?" Oh yes. I went there. He's starting to look a bit angry. In fact, he's starting to look pissed.

"Don't shit about my friends, Evans." He hisses. Wow, I was kidding. Maybe he really is Sirius's bitch.

"Oooh, have I hit a nerve? What, never said it out loud before?"

"You know, Evans, I have no idea what the hell I see in you sometimes. In fact –"

"- You'll leave me alone from now on? Good." And, with that, I walk away.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have been so mean. But he gets on my nerves so much. If he wouldn't be such a git about everything, then I wouldn't have to be so cruel to get him to leave me alone. But that would make sense. And Potter can't make sense, ever. I think it goes against his beliefs or his instincts or something. I mumble the password (_Wingardium Leviosa _– I swear, they get more original every second) and head into the empty common room and head up to my bed. Screw the essay. I can do it in the morning.

--

"LILY ELIZABETH EVANS, GET UP _NOW_! IT'S 8:00!"

Oh my holy shit. Classes start in 30 minutes. Transfiguration starts in 30 minutes. Transfiguration, which I do not have my completed homework for, starts in 30 minutes.

Lady Luck, what the hell?

I let out a screech as I fly out of bed, throwing on my robes, catapulting into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and attempting to brush my hair, all while putting on my shoes. All so I can get down to breakfast with enough time to copy Jenn's essay because there's no way I can pull of my own right now. It isn't until I rush back into my dorm that I glance out the window, and I freeze in mid-step.

Last time I checked, even in winter, the sun is up somewhat by 8 AM.

Um…

Oh, don't tell me…

My roommates are grumbling. No one is awake. No one could have screamed at me to wake up. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and then glance at the clock on my bedside table. It's…

Ooooh…

"Lily, what the fuck are you doing up at this time? It's… It's 4 in the freakin' morning! We just got to sleep an hour ago!" Jenn shouts. You know how you can feel it when you're blushing and your entire face is turning the color of the freakin' setting sun, and all you can do is just sit there like a diseased tomato because you know there is no way to defend yourself? And you can feel everyone staring at you, no, _glaring _at you, because you went totally stupid and screeched and woke everyone up? Yeah, that's about the feeling I'm getting.

This is not a good way to start my day.

"Uh… Sorry. I, uh, thought it was morning…" Wow, I sound remarkably like a mouse. A vividly red mouse, but a mouse all the same. Can mice even turn red? Wow, that's a strange thought. I mean, if a mouse walked in on two of his mouse friends, what would he do?

Y'know, maybe I really do need psychiatric help.

"You thought it was morning? Hmm… Generally there is light in the morning, caused by the rising sun – which, by the way, is nowhere in sight – so shouldn't that have clued you in before you screamed your bloody head off?" Jenn is so mad she's hissing at me like a snake or something. Oh, crap. Well, I suppose when you're already digging your grave, may as well dig it nice and deep. I mean, if I'm going to die, might as well die in style, right?

"Actually, if you look out the window, there is a faint pinkish glow on the horizon. I think the rising sun might just be in sight. And besides, a lot of girls our age get up now anyway, to, y'know, get ready… and… all…" I trail off at the shadowed look on her face. Okay, so maybe the shadows have more to do with the fact that it's 4 AM than the fact that she's about to rip my eyes out of my head and force me to eat them, but it's scary nonetheless. And I think she might just pull that eye thing. Jenn's quite terrifying when she's angry. And boy, is she angry. I'm kind of getting worried about that vein in her temple, in fact. Looks like it's about to break, and the last thing I need right now is my best friend having massive internal hemorrhaging at 4 in the morning, especially because I don't know any healing spells and no one's awake at this god-forsaken hour. Except maybe Potter and his cronies, but I really don't want to know what they're doing and I'd rather eat my own hand than go to them for help. The only one I could face would be Pettigrew, but he'd be about as much help as that oil stain in my parents' driveway. And I'm quite sure oil stains don't really have that much power over massive internal hemorrhaging.

But, yeah. Jenn is pissed. Royally so. To her credit, though, it looks like she's trying to contain it. She's taking very deep breaths and I can almost hear the little psychiatrist man we went to see three years ago (a dare by Jenn's sister – she seemed to think it'd be funny to go to a psychiatrist and tell him all about the wizarding world, just to see what he said. Actually, it was really funny. The guy's eyes almost popped out of his head, and I think he wanted to commit us to Saint Agatha's Home for the Clinically Insane of West London before we escaped his tiny checkered office. I swear, it was black and white checked all over, the floors were black and white tile, the walls were white, and the ceiling was black, and everything was checked. We ended up having to convince him that we'd said nothing. But he had a lot to say about Jenn and needing anger management, in this really wheezy German accent that made me think he was either going to start spouting off the theory of relativity or keel over and die. And he was hitting on me the entire time. But I digress.) telling her to "take deep, calming breaths and count to one hundred." Jenn had never managed to make it to one hundred. In fact, I'm not even sure she ever made it to one.

"Lily Elizabeth Evans. Just go back to sleep. NOW." With that, she turned and jerked the covers back over her head, and I slowly got back into my pajamas and crawled into my own, now-cold, bed.

What did I do to piss you off, Lady Luck?

What did I do?

--

Naturally, now that it's actually time to wake up, I'm not in the best of moods. Jenn looks like she wants nothing to do with me, and Allie and Marlene still aren't sure whether they heard a bat screeching like a banshee at 4 AM or a banshee screeching at 4 AM.

And I still haven't done my Transfiguration essay, but there's no way in hell Jenn is going to let me copy hers. So, to put it simply, Lily Evans is officially dead. Toast. Gone off to the Great Ice Cream Shop in the Sky (if they serve mint chocolate chip, I'm fine with it). And she'll be covered in spit by the time Professor McG is through screaming at her.

Why the crap did I just call her Professor McG? More to the point, why was I thinking in 3rd person?

Then again, trying to fathom the depths of my subconscious really isn't easy. Or particularly smart for that matter. I'm a little afraid of what's back there. I mean, I could be hiding a deep understanding of the universe, I suppose, but I could also be hiding a deep internal adoration for Bon Jovi, which is enough to give me nightmares.

Yes. I am terrified of a major pop singer.

Number 83 on The List.

There is no limit to the depths of my pitifulness.

But that's beside the point. The point is, I'm going crazy, but it really doesn't matter, because I'm going to die a slow and horrifically painful death in Transfiguration (which I happen to have first – oh happy day!) when McGonagall sees that I have not completed my homework. And I had hop_ed_ to get Head Girl next year. Note that emphasis on the "ed," making that past tense. Yes, there go my dreams. All down the drain because Lily has the work ethic of a drunken sloth with three broken legs.

And she's thinking in third person again.

And she has another detention with Slughorn tonight.

I think I'm going to cry.  
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

**(A/N: I apologize to Saint Agatha's Home for the Clinically Insane of West London, should such a place exist. I, unfortunately, have never been to London, so I don't know if there even is a Saint Agatha's Home for the Clinically Insane of West London. In fact, I'm not even sure there's a Saint Agatha. Anyway... Button to your down, please.)**


	4. The Great Red Satin Thong Incident

**(A/N: Thanks to BalladForDeadMemories for both reviewing this and favorites-ing it. Also to Love Joyal, magic-and-love, ourlittlesecret7, Zippy Wings, and again, BalladForDeadMemories for all putting this on story alert. Yeah, yeah. I lack a life to such a degree that I'm willing to thank any and all people I can. Makes me feel better about things.)**

**(--Sidenote: I mention Oedipus Rex. If you don't know who Oedipus Rex was, feel free to ask and I'll explain. It's not the prettiest of stories…)**

_Summary_: My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

_Disclaimer: HA!_

**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Four: The Great Red Satin Thong Incident

I hate my Great-Aunt Mildred.

Perhaps some explanation is in order. My Great-Aunt Mildred has somehow gotten it into her head that because I have red hair, I am a slut. And not just any slut, mind you, but an in-the-closet, barely-hidden-in-clothing, incredibly-nymphomaniac, bisexual slut-on-drugs. Yes, in case you were wondering, she has expressed this sentiment to me before. On numerous occasions. It got old seven years ago.

When I was nine.

Nine.

That was when she gave me the chastity belt for Christmas. And the next year I got an eighteenth-century style dress, complete with incredibly high collar-of-death. Like, a collar so high I could use it as Kleenex.

Needless to say, that dress somehow ended up in Bullet the Rabid Rotteweiler's doghouse. Which got my mother very angry with me because she said that the dress had "character". I told her that the dress had a severe case of "old-fashioned" and got grounded for a week.

Though, I must admit, it was humorous when my father tried to save the dress and ended up running around Old Man McCreerey's backyard, shredded fabric in his hand and a dog the size of me chasing him around with the back of his pants in his mouth. I asked him if he'd gone to request Jasmine's hand in marriage and he grounded me for another week.

Not the best time of my life, no. But it made for good memories.

At any rate, I hate my horrible Great-Aunt Mildred, and she's coming over this Christmas. Again. I'm a little afraid of what she's going to bring me now, but it can't be worse than last year's corset. Which she made me try on. In front of my cousins. My **male **cousins. And then she looked me over and said that I had nothing to fill it out with and we'd have to make it tighter, and I nearly cried. Then I nearly died from lack of oxygen.

In fact, I did pass out for a couple of minutes, but my incredibly perverted cousin managed to revive me, though his hands lingered just a bit too long over my chest area. It was frightening. I used up three bars of soap and two bottles of liquid soap that night trying to get clean from that. And my sister, compassionate as she is, laughed until she cried.

But I filled her sheets with Cockroach Clusters and broke them apart in such a way that the roaches started crawling around – a really useful innovation Jenn figured out that doesn't involve magic so you can do it over the holidays – so it's all okay.

Did I mention that Petunia is horribly phobic of cockroaches?

And that they didn't start crawling until after she got in bed?

That was a night to remember.

Anyway (there goes my off-topic-ness again), Great-Aunt Mildred is coming. I'm on the train right now, and I got a letter from mum warning me this morning. "Now, Aunt Mildred is getting old, so I don't want you to do anything to upset her, Lily!"

Yeah, mum. I'll just wink out of existence this Christmas. That's the only way I'll not annoy her.

But I agreed, so this Christmas is going to be great. Absolutely peachy.

--

Sleeping on trains is neither easy nor intelligent, as I have now learned. As my friends have abandoned me to stay at Hogwarts and have a nice Christmas dinner without Great-Aunt Mildred or Petunia, I was sitting in this compartment, alone, when I began to attempt to sleep. It took me an hour, but I finally managed.

Unfortunately, I completely forgot that Potter and his cronies are, in fact, on the train.

Yeah.

So, when I wake up, they were all in my compartment, Sirius rummaging through my trunk with Pettigrew and Potter having somehow managed to get my head in his lap, with Lupin standing at the doorway, telling Black that there were probably some things in my trunk he wouldn't want to see.

Pettigrew asked what I could possibly be hiding when Sirius pulled out a tampon.

I nearly died. It wasn't until I started screaming that they even realized I was awake. Potter and Lupin had figured it out a couple of seconds before and had already taken off running when I exploded.

I am very protective of my things. Especially when my things are in the hands of Sirius and Pettigrew.

I should probably check my trunk. I mean, there are some unexplainable things in there. Like the red satin thong that Jenn gave me as a gag gift on my sixteenth birthday and the very naked, very mutilated Ken doll I got from Marlene two years ago (it's a long story involving depressed amounts of ice cream, a very messy break-up, a few too many butterbeers – which I didn't know could cause mild inebriation – and the declaration that if I couldn't have Prince Charming, which I acknowledged my boyfriend was far from, then I at least wanted Ken, and why, oh angsty why, couldn't I have him, none of which I truly meant because my ex was a real jerk and I've always thought Prince Charming was a bit of a pansy). I'm kind of worried about that thong, actually. Not that I'd ever touch it, but Sirius Black would. In fact, he'd probably wear it.

Which is disturbing.

_Very _disturbing.

Seeing as it's satin and red and very, very naughty, the type of thing generally found in a porn star's boudoir, not a 16-going-on-17-year-old's trunk, that could be slightly scarring. And by slightly I mean really. So, I'm checking my trunk.

Oh, damn.

The thong is gone.

I'll have to go find it and see if I can't wrestle it from the Marauders with as little embarrassment and/or decapitation on my part and the parts of the four assholes who raided my compartment as possible. Oh, who am I kidding?

I'll be the color of that lingerie by the time I'm through with this.

--

Now I know how Oedipus Rex felt just before he gouged out his eyes. I'm standing in the doorway of his compartment, trying to pretend that I haven't seen what I know I just saw.

Sirius Black, in a red satin thong. _And nothing else._

Sirius lets out a girly scream and I hear a crash as he dives, then Potter yelling for Sirius to not come near him. Lupin is laughing and I think it's Pettigrew that's making the vomiting noises but I'm trying to block out all coherent thought before I kill myself. I don't want the last thing I think about before I tear my eyes out of my head to be Sirius and MY thong. Which I will never wear now.

Not that I was ever going to, but you know, negative infinity minus one. God, this is foul.

"Is he hidden now?" I ask timidly. Lupin says no, but all I can hear is Potter.

"Did you not hear me? I said, get the hell away from me, I don't want to see that – AUGH!"

"There is a lady in here, in case none of you noticed!" Lupin yells through the chaos.

"No. I thought that Sirius screeched and tried to fornicate me for _no _reason _whatsoever_. Glad to clear that up, Remus!" Potter yelled. Finally, there's a crashing of trunks and I hear Sirius's voice, rather timid and high-pitched.

"Uh, guys? I think I'm stuck…" I open my eyes to find Potter against the wall behind me, on the ground, Pettigrew under the seat, attempting to retch, and Lupin on one of the seats, eyes closed and apparently trying to contain himself.

"Well, you did jump into the luggage rack." Lupin says through gritted teeth. Sirius moans.

"That wasn't what I meant…" he mutters and Lupin gags.

"Your own damn fault." Potter mumbles from behind me and then gives me a strange look. "What were that doing in your trunk anyway?" I could just tell the truth and salvage my reputation, but I'm in one of those devil-may-care moods, so I think I'm just going to have to milk this for all it's worth.

"My boyfriend gave it to me, so I'll appreciate if you give that back." He looks quite shocked and I'm starting to feel kind of bad about this. Probably not one of my better ideas. He'll probably demand to see this boyfriend, or he'll ask my parents and then I'll really get it.

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Evans has a boyfriend who gives her skimpy lingerie? What the hell?" I hear Sirius from behind the luggage rack. I narrow my eyes at his general direction. All feelings of regret are gone.

"Yes, I do. And we make passionate love every Hogsmeade weekend. But now he'll have to buy me a new pair of underwear, thanks to you." Potter looks disheartened and Pettigrew is giving me a look like I just grew three heads and each started reciting Dr. Seuss in perfect German. Lupin, however, I can see has called my bluff.

"Really." I give him the ultra-secret eye-motions to tell him to just play along, but he ignores them and continues. "You make passionate love to this boyfriend on Hogsmeade weekends that you aren't allowed to go on?" Yes. I cannot go to Hogsmeade on the weekends. I had that privilege revoked by my parents around the same time as my sister's syphilis bribe. They seemed to think that I did exactly what I just claimed to do on Hogsmeade weekends. I remember when they told me that I wouldn't be allowed that anymore. A lot of the phrases "living in sin" and "can't believe we let you go to this place" and "not without adult supervision, young lady!" And when I told them that we never have adult supervision on Hogsmeade weekends, they just told me that I wouldn't be able to go anymore. It was miserable. It's been miserable. I hate my sister.

"You had to go and ruin my fun, didn't you, Lupin?" He just smiles.

"That's what I do best, Lily." I glare at him, and he doesn't look so smug anymore. Potter, on the other hand, looks happier.

"Then where _did _you get that from?"

"They were a gag gift for my 16th birthday, if you must know." My devil-may-care mood has passed and I just want to get this over with sometime before the next apocalypse. Because there have been many. Oh yes. Bet you didn't know that. "Now, considering where they've been, I don't particularly want them back, but you're explaining to Jenn how her 30 galleons was spent."

"30 galleons?" Sirius yells from behind the luggage rack. "I'm trapped in 30 galleons of satin! Aww, shit! I can't cut these off now! 30 galleons! I can't repay that much!"

"Well, then, maybe you shouldn't have rummaged through Lily's trunk and decided to put them on. Either you find a way to explain to Jenn how you shredded her 30-galleon gag gift to Lily or be uncomfortable for a while." Lupin says mildly, clearly doing his damnedest not to laugh hysterically at the thought of Sirius being trapped in girl's underwear for the rest of his natural life.

"Try explaining _that_ to Shannon," says Potter, who isn't trying to contain his laughter. "I don't think she likes guys who are more feminine than her!" and both he and Pettigrew fall over themselves laughing. It is a humorous (if permanently scarring) mental image.

"Maybe if I pull hard-_ER!_" He ends in a squeak and I can hear him whimpering. Lupin is turning red and all but eating his fist to keep from laughing out loud.

"Good thing you never planned on having kids, eh, Padfoot?" He chokes out, eyes full of tears.

"Go fuck yourself!" Sirius yells, but it's not very threatening because he sounds like a chipmunk. Which is really funny, because I can just see Alvin from Alvin and the Chipmunks yelling at Simon to go fuck himself. Oh, that would be the greatest episode of that show ever. There's a strange noise, another squeaky whimper-scream from Sirius, and the thong flies from behind the luggage rack, all twisted and nasty-looking. "Holy shit, that was painful." His voice is slowly going back down the scale now. There's a silence. "Uh, guys?" He says.

"Yeah?" Potter replies, wiping away tears.

"Where the fuck are all my clothes?" I glance around and at my feet is a pile of Sirius's robes.

Oh, sweet revenge.

--

It isn't until the train is stopped that Potter catches up to me.

"Okay, Evans. Enough is enough. Give Sirius back his clothes." I just glare.

"When he comes to get them, I'll give them to him." I reply mildly, grabbing my purse and one end of my trunk.

"That would involve his running through the train, stark naked. I don't think anyone is particularly fond of blindness, so that's out of the question. Give them to me, and I'll give him his clothes."

"Why can't he put on what's in his trunk, eh?"

"Because his trunk is residing upside down, eight feet over his head, directly in front of a window that quite a lot of people are standing on the other side of."

"Why didn't he come earlier?"

"Because we didn't know you'd taken them."

"Why can't you or Lupin get his robes for him?"

"Did you not hear me say the words 'upside down'?"

"Well, I guess Sirius will just have to go au natural, won't he?" I'm being mean, but they deserve it. And this is too funny to just stop now. Way too funny.

"Evans." Potter says, exasperated. "Why can't you just play along for once?" I give a very undignified snort.

"When have any of you ever given me a reason to play along? I'm having quite a lot of fun as is, thanks very much." I walk out of the compartment, but stop at right at the exit. "And have a happy Christmas." I smile and continue down to my parents.

--

Okay, in retrospect, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. My parents, my sister, and my Great-Aunt Mildred were there to greet me (Great-Aunt Mildred with an upturned nose and a huffy expression). We were at the car when Sirius arrived, clutching a spellbook to his crotch and livid red.

"Give me my fucking clothes, Evans." My parents looked scandalized, my Great-Aunt Mildred looked vindicated, my sister looked mildly interested, and I did the only thing I could think to do.

I laughed. Hysterically.

So I'm going to hear it when I get home for whatever my parents think I did with Sirius. So my great-aunt is probably going to give me diapers or something as a Christmas present. So my sister thinks I'm a whore. Sirius Black was just forced to run through the platform wearing a book as a makeshift loincloth to get back his clothes.

I can take anything.

**(A/N: Sorry it took so long. My muse ran away there for a while. Cookies to reviewers!)**


	5. Operation Diagon Alley

**(A/N: Thanks to the Lovely Lucinda for reviewing, story-alerting, and favorites-ing this. Thanks also to official cheeky devil and ourlittlesecret7 for reviewing. Thanks also to Dreamfire for putting this on story alert. Loves and kisses and chocolate chip cookies to all readers and reviewers.  
--Sidenote: To ourlittlesecret7- Patience, young padiwan, patience.)**

_Summary_: My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

_Disclaimer: HA!_

**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Five: Operation Diagon Alley

Okay, so I've been grounded for the entire Christmas break _and _the first month of summer break because apparently I'm can't keep my hands off Sirius and sneak out of the house to go meet up with him in romantic places that probably don't exist to go have wild, passionate sex with him at which point I steal his clothes because… I'm an insane, obsessive, nymphomaniac stalker who can't get enough of _Sirius Black._

Oh yeah, that whole section? My sister's version of events. She claims that she followed me on one of these outings and watched it all happen.

Okay, I'm sorry, but even if I did sneak out to make love to Sirius and my sister followed me (which she didn't because I'd rather die than even touch Sirius unlessforced to), what sister would _watch_? Are my parents completely stupid? And then there's Great-Aunt Mildred, standing by the table sniffing "I told you so" and "No niece of mine". And no one would listen to me, which makes no sense because I was the only person who was there at the time. My family is conspiring against me.

But on the plus side, Great-Aunt Mildred won't bother me.

Then again, that could be because I've been trapped in my room under lock and key. I'm just waiting for the mice to start singing to me and helping me make a dress for the ball, at which I meet my prince charming and move away from home and Petunia gets struck blind. Which would be so ironic that it isn't even funny. Petunia is the nosiest person in existence. Except perhaps her friend Yvonne. She's pretty bad about it herself.

I'm going to have to find a way to get to Diagon Alley, too. I lose quills like there's no tomorrow, Peeves smashed my last bottle of ink on the second to last day of term, Potter stole my copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, and I'm nearly out of Potions ingredients. Which is peachy.

--

Okay, Operation Wrangle A Trip To Diagon Alley Without Being Accused Of Whoredom, Bitchiness, Or Demon Possession shall commence. For short, I'll be calling it Operation Diagon Alley.

Yeah, those little names are the things I got called last time I tried this on a year that Great-Aunt Mildred was visiting. But not this year.

So, I'm currently dressed in all black, attempting to sneak out of the house with a duffel bag so I can change clothes. Say what you will, my family is insane. Unfortunately, sneaking out involves being able to leave one's room. I'm not of age yet to use magic out of Hogwarts and I can't climb out my window as that would be a rather painful sheer drop. I'm on the second floor and was not imbued with the luck of having a convenient tree placed right outside my window.

I've yet to meet someone who does, in fact. Damn you, romance novels.

So, here I am, dressed like a deluded cult member, trying to pick the lock on my door. Perhaps I should have thought this all the way through. Damn. They make this look so _easy_ in the movies. They lied. This lock will not be picked!

Wait a second.

That's a click.

The doorknob is turning. I think I picked the lock. I can escape this hell. I can go to Diagon Alley. I can--

"LILY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Oh, shit.

"Why, hello, Petunia. Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

"Did you just pick your lock?" Excuse, excuse, need an excuse. Aaah…

"No." That was frightfully lame.

"Then why is it unlocked?"

"Maybe Mum forgot to lock it."

"No she didn't."

"Maybe she did." It's better than my last excuse, I suppose. I blurted out "ALIENS! THE BODY-SNATCHERS MADE ME DO IT!" and got in a lot of trouble. But it was almost worth it when I told Petunia that she looked like one of the pod things. So I was four years old. It was funny.

"No, she didn't. I locked your door this morning." Why that evil…

"Maybe it got unlocked."

"How?" She walked into it. She did. I grin impishly.

"I dunno… Maybe… _Magic_?" Petunia cannot stand magic or anything out of the ordinary, actually. And she calls me weird. Petunia narrows her eyes, which only serves to make her look more horse-like.

"Why are you wearing black?" Oops.

"I'm… er… Mourning." I cast around for something to mourn over, and eventually land on something. "I'm mourning the way you're going off to college next semester and can't be at home with your dear, sweet, loving sister." Oh, jeez. She'll never swallow it. Where did I come up with this again?

"I'm not leaving until next year."

Oh. Well. Shows how observant I am.

"Really?" May as well get her off my back for the rest of the day. "Oh, that makes me so _happy_!" I squeal and jump up to hug her.

"Ugh, Lily, get off me!" With that, she shoves me away from her and I land quite painfully on the ground. Sisterly love, it's a beautiful thing. "I'm locking your door again." Damn.

"Oh, come on. Can't you let me out?"

"Well, seeing as you were apparently trying to sneak out of the house – wearing the ugliest pair of shoes known to man and a pair of pants Great-Aunt Mildred wouldn't be caught dead in, might I add – no."

"I was trying to sneak out to get a piece of that cake mum made yesterday." Which isn't a total lie. I had planned to take some with me.

"Wait for dinner then." And she walks out of my room and locks the door. And I'm left wondering, like usual when I encounter my sister under conditions like these, why she came in here to begin with.

Bitch.

--

It's dinnertime, and I'm being good about this whole stealth technique. I'm going to casually drop it into conversation that I need to go to London to pick up school things, and that they can all come with me if they like, and they can even watch over me like a hawk, they can keep me on a dog leash if they like. But I must go to Diagon Alley. I need to get that copy of Quidditch Through the Ages so I can screw with Potter's head and I absolutely have to have more quills and ink. And seeing as I can't go to Hogsmeade…

Here we go.

"Hey, mum, could you pass me the IneedtogotoLondontomorrowcanyoupleasepleasepleaseallowmeoutyoucanwatchovermeallyouwantsolongasyouletmego Potatoes?" Not my most shining moment, no. But my mother is frightening. She's giving me this look now. Uh-oh.

"Here you are, noyoucan'tyoungladyanddont'eventrytosneakoutbecauseyoursisteralreadytoldusthatyoutriedearliertoday, Lily."

"Please?"

"No."

Damn. Scratch that plan. Time to turn to Dad. "Hey, Dad, can—"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not? There is nothing going on between me and that guy, I swear!" This is really starting to piss me off.

"He was running across the train station, asking you for his clothes."

"And if it was a joke I was playing on him?"

"Why did he have his clothes removed in your vicinity?" Damn. I can't explain because that would mean admitting that I had possessed a satin red thong, which would only make it worse. But this looks really bad.

"Can you trust me for once? I think he was changing as I passed by and I just thought 'Oh, this will be funny' and grabbed his clothes from the floor of the compartment. I did not do anything with him." Dad looks unconvinced. "You can owl him and ask. His name is Sirius Black. I'll lend you my owl to do it." Of course, there is the slight problem that maybe he'll play along with my parents out of fury. But maybe Lupin will be there and make him tell the truth. Or I can tell him I'll go on a… _date_… with Potter if he does.

Yeah. I'm that desperate. I'm really hoping it won't come to that.

"We'll see. How do we know he'll tell the truth anyway?" Because I'll force him into unwilling womanhood if he doesn't?

"Threaten him. He's a wimp."

"Fine. I'll write this letter tonight." Thank God. Maybe I'll actually get what I need. Finally. I'm getting kind of sick of mooching off Jenn and Marlene. Allie stopped loaning me things when she realized that I chew on quills. Jenn and Marlene haven't yet figured this out. And hopefully they never will.

--

_Dear Sirius Black,_

_I have been hearing rumours about you being involved with my daughter. If there is any truth to these rumours, I have access to a Rotteweiler suffering from a sever case of rabies and am not above sending him to you via post._

_Happy Christmas!_

_Sincerely,_

_Richard Evans_

I hate my family.

--

_Dear Mr. Evans,_

_I don't know who you've been listening to, but there isn't anything between your daughter and myself (I'm not that stupid – just ask Lily about James and you'll find out why). As for the Rotteweiler, I love dogs and would be glad to take it off your hands. Though most animals are rather against being sent around via muggle post. I hear it's quite bumpy. However, if you want to cure its Rabies, I'd suggest to simply run._

_That being said, you seem like a very fine man. And have a very Happy Christmas._

_Regards,_

_Sirius Black_

Surprisingly articulate for Sirius, even if I had to spend three hours explaining to my father who James is and why Sirius would be stupid to try anything around me because of him. At which point my father decided that he liked any guy who would protect me from other, less scrupulous men, and suggested that I date him.

I hate my life. But at least I get to hate my life at Diagon Alley.

--

Petunia got into serious trouble with Mum for lying about me, and, as such, has been forced to be my escort (Dad has to work and Mum has to stay home with Great-Aunt Mildred, so she was coming with me anyway). So, I've been having far too much fun torturing her.

"Ooh, Petunia! Look at that, it's a cockroach cluster!"

"Oh, I just love these squid tentacles, aren't they just beautiful?"

"Hmm. I can't find what I'm looking for in this apothecary. We'll have to go to the one next door." It's a form of passive-aggressive revenge. An extremely fun one.

But Diagon Alley is so beautiful this time of year. All covered in snow and holiday-y. And yeah, I know, that word made no sense. Play along, okay? Anyway, it's almost like a Christmas card, it's so pretty. Of course, my experience is marred slightly by the fact that my sister is with me. But I'm trying to look past that.

"Hey, Evans!" I turn and Sirius Black is headed toward me. I turn back quickly and try to hurry away. After that letter my dad sent him, I really don't want to see him right now. Unfortunately, Sirius runs fast and my sister won't let me.

"Hey. What was that with your dad?" He's giving me this look like I've been spreading around that I have wild sex with him. Which he probably wouldn't mind if it wasn't for Potter.

"I don't know." And I pass right by Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, also known for it's delectable hot fudge sundaes and nectar-esque hot cocoa. I'm forced to backtrack. You can't just walk by a hot fudge sundae and hot cocoa. "Hey, Petunia, let's go here. I'll buy you something."

"It isn't… _magic_," she spits out, "Is it?"

"No, this is just your run-of-the-mill, normal ice cream shop. You can buy magical ice creams, but you can also get a really good hot fudge sundae." Petunia sniffed. Oops. I forgot. Petunia hates all things fattening. "And hot cocoa." But she's a sucker for the hot chocolate.

"Fine." And I walk in, forgetting momentarily that Sirius Black is following me.

"Oh, good, we're in here too." What a rude awakening. "You two can sit with us." I glance over and I see Potter and Lupin at a table together. Sirius leaps into his seat and says something to Potter while I determinedly order my sundae.

"Who are they?" Petunia demands from directly behind me.

"No one. At least, no one I want to deal with right now." And then there's an arm on my shoulder and Potter is standing beside me.

"Well, hello, there, Lily, oh Light of My Life! How amazing it is to see you, and did I mention that you look beautiful today?" Was that a snort I heard from Petunia? Throwing her a glare, I shove Potter's arm off my shoulder.

"No. Can we keep it that way?" I snatch my sundae and begin to stalk off, praying that my sister follows. She doesn't.

"LILY. You are not leaving me here after you dragged me halfway across London so I could help you pick up your stupid magic things!" And then the entire store is staring at me. I really hate my family. I turn back and Potter is grinning, Petunia is fuming, and I can hear Black and Lupin laughing.

"Of course not, dear Petunia, why ever would I think of doing such a thing to my shining and wonderful sister?" As I get back up to the counter, Florean rings up the order. As I'm digging in my purse, Potter pulls out his wallet.

"How much?" But I reach my money before him and pay at lightning speed. Potter looks surprised. "I was doing you a favor…"

"I don't need your help." I snap and snatch my change away from Florean, who's looking suspiciously like he's trying to hide a smile. I glare at him and hand Petunia her hot cocoa. I then grab her wrist and drag her out of the shop, leaving Potter looking slightly hurt in my wake.

Dangit. Now I feel like a bitch.

But I've got the entire day in Diagon Alley to get over it. I manage to find a teashop before Petunia's cocoa freezes and we sit down inside, Petunia looking huffily around at everything, like it was all causing her deep physical torment.

I'm people-watching for now. There isn't much else to do. As soon as I finish my sundae, Petunia starts her act up again.

"How much more do you have to do?"

"Let me see… I still have to get a book, some quills, and some ink. I can get them all in Flourish and Blotts."

"Then let's go. I want to get back home."

"Oh, come on. You can't say that hot cocoa wasn't good."

"Humph!"

And so we head out for Flourish and Blotts. It's started to snow and it's a rather pretty effect, actually. It's so peaceful here. I wish I could stay. But noooo. I have to go back to house arrest as soon as I'm done buying a few quills. I'll be taking a while.

The store is warm, slightly crowed, messy, and pleasant. Petunia looks highly offended by the disorder.

"Well, if you'd rather sit outside, be my guest." She looked tempted. Which says something about Petunia's OCD.

"I think I'll head back to the teashop, actually."

"Okay."

"Don't tell Mum that I did."

"I won't." She gives me a suspicious look before leaving. Oh, this is good. I can take forever without her harping on me to hurry up.

So I take a while. I'm just browsing, biding my time, you know. I really love bookstores, they're so warm and cozy. I feel like I could spend a lifetime in there, just reading and looking around.

People come and go and I sort of lose track of time. But not too bad, I don't think. Anyway, when I realize what time it is (4 in the afternoon), I grudgingly get up and start toward the counter. Suddenly, there's a crash behind me.

A little kid is standing next to the shelf of empty inkbottles. Or, what was the shelf of empty inkbottles. The entire thing is on the ground, all of the bottles are shattered. Just as I start to walk up to try and help her, she starts to cry.

Ooh. I'm not good with crying kids. But I feel really bad for her.

And then Potter walks up. I had no idea he was in the store. Ugh, he was probably spying on me.

Eew.

But he stops by the kid. "What's wro- oh." He pauses as he sees the inkbottles. "Well, that's not so bad. Here- _Reparo!_" And with a sweep of his wand, he fixes all the little inkbottles, albeit a bit clumsily. Potter isn't top of the Charms class for a reason. But he grins at the girl. "There, good as new!"

"Really?" She says hopefully and he nods. She suddenly hugs him and says a muffled "Thanks!" before rushing over to her mother, who looks bewildered.

Okay. If I didn't feel bitch enough earlier today, now I really feel bad. That was a really nice thing for him to do. I kind of feel like a jerk. And by kind of I mean totally. Then he turns and notices me, and grins.

Jerk feeling's gone. I buy my quills and ink and book and head out for the snow.

"Evans." He says, falling in step with me.

"What?"

"Why were you spying on me in there?"

"Because I was hoping someone would save that poor little girl before you corrupted her and tried to fornicate her." I'm starting to get really mad. He only helped that girl because he knew I was watching!

"No, you were watching because you can't handle crying kids and wanted someone to help her out. You know you thought I was a nice guy back there, at least for a moment."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"Fine. Maybe for a moment, I thought that perhaps you were a nice guy under that jackass exterior, but apparently I was wrong."

"What makes you think you were wrong?" He's really getting me mad. I love helping people out and all, but helping people out for all the wrong reasons is just selfish.

"Because- Because- Because you only helped her because you knew I was watching! You only helped her to help yourself, and, believe me, Potter, there is nothing more jackass to do than that!" As I storm off, I hear him yell after me.

"I didn't see you until I turned around, Lily, I swear!" Really? Hmm. Knowing Potter…

Liar.

…

Then why am I not so mad at him anymore?

**--**

**(A/N: Sorry for the lack of humor in that chapter. I wanted to get that last snowflake in, you know, the one that starts to push her toward him? And it sort of shoved the funny out. But, on the plus side, this chapter is almost a thousand words longer than normal. 3193, I believe, of actual text. Please review.)**


	6. The Owl Wars of Christmastide and Beyond

**(A/N: Thanks to ourlittlesecret7, midnight-vortex, and official cheeky devil for reviewing. This is… an interesting chapter. I had way too much fun with the owls.)**

_Summary_: My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

Disclaimer: HA!

Quote of the Chapter: "You tell those spiders, Ron." -Movie!Harry, PoA.

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**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Six: The Owl Wars of Christmastide and Beyond

I used to love owls. Pretty, fluffy things that fly around and spread cheer when they bring you your letters from friends or packages from Marlene's mum because she loves you and all of your friends and is just awesome like that. I really used to adore them.

And then this owl wakes me up at 4 AM on Christmas morning.

Don't get me wrong. I wake up early on Christmas all the time. But 4 AM is obscene. So this owl is pecking my window to death, screeching and waking up the whole house, having apparently gotten its foot stuck in the tiny crack that explains why I've been freezing all night.

"LILY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO THAT ANIMAL?" From my mother.

"LILY! SHUT THAT THING UP!" From my father.

"LILY! STOP MAKING THOSE NOISES!" From Great-Aunt Mildred.

"LILY! I AM NOT CLEANING IT UP WHEN THAT THING CRAPS ALL OVER YOUR ROOM!" From dear Petunia.

All I can say is, this had better be some gift I'm getting.

I open the window (getting hit with a blast of frigid air when I do) and the owl stops screeching and dive-bombs into my bed, shaking snow and feathers all over my pillow and comforter, then sticks out its leg to give me the letter and parcel, which are written to me in James Potter's handwriting (which explains quite a lot, actually), as if I should have been waiting on tenterhooks for this all week. Dear God, it even _acts _like Potter.

Scowling, I take the letter and parcel off the owl and look at it expectantly.

"You're moving." I can almost hear it challenging me. "Now."

The owl gives a hoot sounding surprisingly like a "humph!" and refuses to budge, instead settling even deeper into my (very warm and cozy and comfortable) bed.

"I am not opening this package until you move off my bed."

No movement.

"Look at the tasty owl food!"

Was that a laugh?

"I will beat you with this parcel."

Nothing.

"MOVE, DAMMIT!"

It snuggles deeper.

Losing my patience, I grab the owl by its very slippery and soft wings and chuck it off my bed. It lets out a squawk and flops around for a full minute, apparently pretending to have hurt its wing. Did Potter give that thing a personality transplant? I fall onto my bed, then promptly jump back off my bed because the nice little owl has left a nice little present that is currently all over the seat of my cute pajama pants.

I really hate James Potter's owl.

I open the letter first.

_Dear Lily,_

_I really didn't see you in Flourish and Blotts until after that kid left, I swear. I'm not that much of a jerk to act all macho just to get you to like me._

_Oh. Wait._

_I am._

_But not to that extent, okay? I decided to make it up to you by getting you a nice Christmas present. Unfortunately, my owl is sick and I had to use Sirius's owl. Forgive him (and me), please. We've all given up trying to make the thing do what we want. I ended up having to hex it to get it to even take this. It has somehow gotten it into its stupid little owl head that it's the smartest thing in the world and can't be bothered with us underlings. I think it has something to do with Sirius's feeding it owl treats and treating it like a king all the freakin' time._

_He likes owl treats (in fact, he won't eat anything else) and his name is Oregon. I'd get used to him if I were you; he'll probably be hanging around for a while. And don't insult him._

_I hope you like this. I'm not very good at picking out muggle things…_

_-James Potter_

Well, that explains the owl. Scribbling "Sirius Black's Owl" on a piece of parchment – an addition to The List – I unwrap the box, hoping for something along the lines of a pistol (to get rid of said devil owl) or, at the very least, Houses of the Holy, which I have yet to buy and am ready to kill for.

But no.

A myriad of toys and other such things pop out at me. A rubber ducky, a pen, a stuffed mouse, a leash, a Raggedy Anne doll, and, trapped at the very bottom, looking very pitiful and accounting for the nice new cut on my finger, a now-broken light bulb.

What was he thinking?

Sucking on my finger, I toss the box onto my desk and take out a piece of parchment. This does not go unignored.

_Jenn,_

_You live a couple streets down from that Mafia guy, don't you? Could you call a hit on Potter for me? I would love it if you did._

_-Lily_

Obviously, I'm not going to use Oregon, so I have to wake up Hershey (so I'm a chocoholic. It's not a crime), my snowy owl, so she can take my letter to Jenn. Okay, maybe a hit is a bit drastic, but Jenn's terrified of that guy, so I'm not really worried.

Hershey finally agrees to send my letter, after pecking my hand in what might have been an affectionate matter if she was more awake, and flies out the window. I pull the sheets off my bed and chuck them out the door, collapsing on my bare mattress.

But Oregon will not have any of this. Before I can even imagine closing my eyes, the owl is trying to get back onto my bed, squawking and flopping his wings in my face, pecking at my hands, apparently wanting to be petted. He's like a bad infant, craving my undivided attention.

I am never having children.

--

Finally, at 7 AM, I can escape El Diablo the Owl and open presents. Here, I've just got family presents. When I get back to Hogwarts, I'll get my gifts from my friends, and I'll give them theirs. It's a tradition stemming from Allie's abysmal memory and the way she'd always forget our addresses. So we just started giving our gifts to each other when we got back to Hogwarts. I don't have very high expectations of today, but Mum always makes gingerbread cookies and hot cocoa, and we usually spend the afternoon and part of the night in a big snowball fight, and then we sit around the fire and sing Christmas carols and eat candy canes.

Christmas is one of the few times that Petunia actually acts like part of the family, even if she only does it out of old times' sake.

So, bad presents or no, I'm really looking forward to today.

I take a seat on the couch and Petunia gives me a strange look.

"You smell like unclean animals." She says with a sniff.

"I've spent the past three hours trying to force a demonic owl to get away from me. I wonder why."

"So I didn't dream that squawking?"

"I'm afraid not." She gives me a look like I should be committed to Saint Agatha's, and turns away to talk to Great-Aunt Mildred.

"Okay! Let's divide up these presents!" Mum says, glowing around the room. Dad passes out the hot cocoa and I stir in a candy cane and a cinnamon stick, like always. Petunia thinks it's strange. I think it tastes wonderful.

Petunia has about eight presents from Great-Aunt Mildred (I've got one), and a present each from Mum and Dad, then one from the both of them. And the one from me.

But it's okay. She won't touch anything Great-Aunt Mildred gives her, so I don't feel too bad that I have seven fewer presents than her.

"Lily, why don't you open your present first?" Mum beams at me. She's so crazy on Christmas. It's her favorite holiday. I pick up the one from her. "Now, I wasn't really sure what to get you, so I asked one of your friends, that nice Marlene girl who lives down the street? And she told me that you'd like this. I was a little unsure about it – I mean, it's not from your world – but I trust your friend." And the commentary begins. It's always like this. Mum explains her reasoning behind everything.

Oooh!

She got me Houses of the Holy!

I could _kiss _Marlene for telling Mum I wanted this. "Oh! I've been wanting this album for ages!" Here it comes, the mandatory photograph for the millions of scrapbooks we have of Christmases past.

"Hold it up and let me take a picture!" That might not be such a good idea, seeing as what the cover of Houses of the Holy is… But I do it anyway and get blinded by the flash. That's going to be an interesting photograph. Lily, holding up an album covered with naked people and squinting in the light, feathers in her hair.

I'm burning it.

Dad got me a new cauldron that I really don't need, but at least it's better than last year's screaming book. Mum and Dad's gift that they got together turns out to be Hogwarts, A History (which they apparently don't know I already have. Oh well. It's the thought that counts) and Petunia got me a surprisingly pretty skirt.

"It was on sale and I didn't want to have to get anything from _your_ world." Is her explanation. Still, it's a cute skirt.

And then there is Great-Aunt Mildred's gift.

Petunia chokes on her hot cocoa, yelping as it goes up her nose but not caring because she's laughing so hysterically. Mum and Dad are giving it the same look I am, mild disgust mixed with disbelief. Great-Aunt Mildred looks satisfied.

"Do tell me when it's due, won't you?"

I turn to her, the same look on my face.

"Well, um…" Mum splutters.

"Aunt Mildred…" Dad begins.

Petunia is still laughing hysterically.

I pull the present out of the box and stare blankly at Great-Aunt Mildred. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I heard that you didn't need that belt I gave you a few years ago, so I got you those." Misreading the look on my face, she goes on. "Now, don't be embarrassed, dear, it happens to the best of us." Petunia lets out a scream of mirth and falls off the couch. She's rolling on the floor now, clutching her sides and crying with laughter.

I don't believe it.

She got me _diapers._

--

When I get back to my room, Hershey has returned and is casting Oregon rather violated looks. Poor Hershey. I think Oregon has been hitting on her. It's like Potter in owl form.

Anyway, she's got Jenn's reply and have I got some things to tell her. I can't believe Great-Aunt Gertrude. Dad is still trying to explain to her that I am not pregnant.

I tear open Jenn's letter.

_Hey Lily,_

_It's too early for this. What did Potter do? It must have been bad._

_He didn't send you a Christmas present, did he? Well, it can't have been that bad, could it? Anyway, I will not call a hit in on him. You know how much that guy scares me and I don't have the money to anyway. And besides, I'm still at Hogwarts._

_Tell me how Christmas with Mildred goes. But wait until normal hours of the day._

_-Jenn_

That's disappointing. Oh well, I guess. Just for being so unhelpful, I won't tell her about the present until after I get back from holidays.

Like I'm going to hold to that.

But anyway, to the matter at hand: Removing Oregon the Owl That Satan Himself Would Run From from my room. I really don't want to write Potter a letter, but I really don't know how I'm going to get this thing away from me without resorting to a sparkler bomb.

Which would probably land me in a mental hospital. Or a jail.

I open the window and point to it. Oregon ignores me and goes back to serenading Hershey. Poor Hershey. Poor Lily's ears.

"OUT." I say, pointing to the window. Oregon hoots at me, as if to say, "shut up" and continues his attempt at a song. Hershey gives me a desperate glance, kind of the same way I look at Jenn whenever Potter's jumping on me. I go to pick up Oregon and throw him out the window, but he hops out of my reach and then flies to the top of my wardrobe.

Oooh.

That coward.

"Look at the Owl Treats, Oregon!" And I start waving them in front of his face. His squawking, wannabe-song falters for a moment as he's clearly contemplating which is more important: the treats, or his warped attempt at wooing Hershey. He picks the latter.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

For the record, I never did this.

So, grimacing, I take an owl treat and eat it, trying desperately not to gag, and fake a long, almost-ecstasy-like "Mmmmmm. These owl treats are _so good._"

Flat-out lie. They taste like dirt mixed with rotting food. How in the hell do these owls eat these things? Oregon falters again, giving the treats in my hand a longing glance. Hershey, apparently deciding that I shouldn't suffer alone, flies onto my shoulder and lets me feed her an owl treat.

Dang.

My owl is a better actor than I am. She closes her eyes and chews slowly, apparently savoring the flavor. Oregon stops warbling and tries to go for the treats, but Hershey snatches the treats out of my hand and flies to the window, dropping the bag out of it. Oregon shoots after it and I shut it behind him.

"I love you, Hershey." She gives me an unimpressed hoot. "But that was my last bag of owl treats." Another hoot. "It was worth it?" Hoot. "Thought so." I pull the curtains shut as Oregon tries to get back in through the window, and head into the bathroom to brush my teeth.

Those treats are foul.

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**(A/N: Shorter than the last chapter, I know. Reviews are good.**

**Uh… Oops. Rereading this chapter, I realize – a good three months after the fact – that I accidentally called Great-Aunt Mildred Great-Aunt Gertrude, which was what I was originally going to call her, throughout most of this chapter. Fixed now.)**


	7. Straight out of a Romance Novel

**(A/N: Just for the record, I don't really hate Bon Jovi, but it's wa-a-ay too much fun to use him as the butt of any joke. Just try it, and you'll see that I'm right.)**

_Summary:_ My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

_Disclaimer: HA!_

Quote of the Chapter: "If I had a million dollars, I'd buy your loooooove." –The Barenaked Ladies

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**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Seven: Straight out of a Romance Novel  


"Repeat that, please? She gave you what?" Marlene asks when I finish explaining Christmas to her back at Hogwarts.

"Diapers. She gave me diapers because she figured I was pregnant. She even said that it happens to the best of us." Marlene laughs and tosses me another chocolate frog.

"And you had a war with Sirius Black's owl?"

"Me and Hershey, yeah." Damn. Morgana again with the chocolate frog card. Marlene and I have been collecting them for ages. Jenn and Allie think it's childish, but we have fun. "He was hitting on Hershey. I'm starting to think that Potter – or Black, I suppose. It is his owl – gave that thing a personality transplant. It was kind of disturbing."

"And you ate an owl treat in an attempt to lure the owl out of your room." Jenn says, slightly confused.

"Yeah. It didn't really work. It wasn't until Hershey ate one that the thing started to get really jealous."

"You have one smart bird."

"I have a bird with a survival instinct, just like her owner."

"Oh, come on, Lily." Here we go. Attempt number… What are we on now? 866? "He's really not that bad once you get to know him."

"You know, I could have been talking about fractured wings or arms or something." I retort lamely, mouth full of chocolate frog.

"But you weren't." Jenn, Marlene, and Allie settle closer, lounging on my bed, the unofficial hangout for us. Marlene goes on. "You were talking about James Potter, the same way you've been talking about James Potter for the past 5 and a half years. You know what? I think you really don't mind the way he hangs all over you."

Yeah. Right. The same way I didn't mind having that root canal my mother made me get a year ago. I say as much.

"Oh, don't even, Lily. What would you do if he suddenly gave up on you?"

"Dance a jig?"

"_No._ You'd be depressed. It gratifies your pride to have him chasing after you like he does."

"If it 'gratifies my pride' – whatever that's supposed to mean – that he chases after me, then why do I constantly say no?" Ha! Gotcha there, Miss I-fancy-myself-a-matchmaker Marlene. To prove my winning-ness, I bite the head off my latest chocolate frog.

"You're afraid."

Ouch.

Having a chocolate frog's head attempt to escape directly through one's nasal passages is not a comfortable thing.

"I…" _cough, hack, splutter, splutter_ "am not" _retch, hack, cough_ "afraid" _hack_ "of Potter."

"Are you okay?" I give Jenn my best glare, the one that has, on occasion, been known to stop a rampaging hippogriff and make it cower. Okay, so maybe it was the fact that Hagrid was right behind me, pointing his big pointy crossbow at it, but still.

"Do I _look _okay?" Jenn thumps me on the back (which doesn't help and I now want to hunt down whoever said it would and nail their head to a spike. Hmm. Perhaps I need to work on this pent-up anger.)

"You'll be alright. Back to the task at hand. What were you saying Marlene?" Scum.

"Right. Lily, I have come to the illustrious conclusion that you are afraid of Mr. Potter. Not of him, per se," She says hurriedly as I open my mouth to protest. Per se? "but of the fact that he's chasing you. You think that he's in this for the chase alone and therefore, you don't want to bother with him. You're afraid that if you say yes to him, he'll get bored and break your heart." I give her my best indifferent look. I have a lot of looks, obviously.

"Thank you, Ms. Romance Writer. Now, if we could get to real life out of the pink bound book with Passionate Pirates and lovers galore, please?" Ha. Marlene looks angry.

"Lily, I think Marlene is right." I round on Allie, who brushes her hair out of her eyes carelessly. "I think you really are afraid of him breaking your heart."

"I am not afraid of him breaking my heart!" This is getting old. Fast.

"Yes, you are. If you aren't, then why are you so afraid to just say yes?"

"And give in to the deep, secret passion that lurks between your smoldering gazes every time they meet." All three of us turn to Marlene, who giggles and goes on, "Well, you said I was being a romance writer. I figured you wanted input of the poetic variety."

"Marlene, we want input, not porn." Jenn says, and I think I may just have been able to avoid – "And we still want to know why you won't say yes, Lily." Nope. Nevermind that.

"I'm not afraid of him!"

"Then I dare you," Oh shit. "to say yes to him the next time he does ask you out. Unless," Jenn goes on, eyes glinting, "there's a reason you shouldn't?" She gives an almost imperceptible glance toward the package of diapers that I haven't had the chance to get rid of yet. Oooh. That was low.

"I am not pregnant, if that's what you mean. But I don't accept the dare." I lean back, to sit on my high horse like the dignified person I truly am. Somewhere deep down.

"Why not?"

"Because his ego doesn't need any more inflation that it's already been given." I reply delicately, still feeling high and mighty.

"It'll get inflated when you inevitably agree to date him anyway."

"Which will be when hell freezes over."

"You know you really don't hate him that much Lily." Allie cuts in, sounding bored and annoyed. "Just say yes so we don't have this discussion again. Give him a chance, will you?"

"No." All of a sudden, Marlene stands up and walks to the door. "What are you doing?"

"I," she says dramatically as she throws open the door, "am going to find James and tell him that you will go with him to the next Hogsmeade outing because you so obviously – What?" She says, dropping the airy voice she had taken on.

"I can't go to Hogsmeade, remember?" I smirk at her. She looks crestfallen, but brightens. Dammit.

"I'll just tell him you'll be dating him, then!" Before I can catch her to beat some sense into her brain, she's skipped out of the room and down the spiral staircase.

"She won't really do that, will she?" I ask fearfully.

"I don't know…" Jenn says. "With Marlene, you can't really tell. She might just."

Ah, dangit

--

She did it. She told Potter that I wanted to date him. I am going to kill Marlene Mc-Freakin-Kinnon.

Unfortunately, I'm not leaving the room and she won't come back in.

It makes homicide a little difficult, actually. The worst part is, I know I'll have to walk out there eventually and face the music. But I _really _don't want to face the music. It's sort of the equivalent of having to walk into a Bon Jovi concert; I might just tear my own face off screaming in agony and/or terror.

Allie walks through the room, bringing me much-needed sustenance. "I figured you'd be up here, contemplating whether you should eat the covers or sneak out." She declares, plopping down on my bed and passing me a bagel. Frighteningly enough, she was right. "Now, why won't you come down?"

"Because that would mean facing Potter." I mumble around the bagel. She even remembered my strawberry cream cheese. Allie is such a lifesaver.

"It isn't that bad, really. I think he figures it's just a joke, so he really hasn't told anyone, except his friends." I feel kind of bad about that. I mean, if he thinks it's a joke, then I must be a real bitch to him.

Well, okay. I am, but I must be a total bitch to him.

Dang.

I am that too. Maybe I should be nicer.

"You know, Allie, maybe I should be nicer to Potter. I mean, I'm a real bitch about him, aren't I?" Allie looks thunderstruck.

"Oh dear God, has Lily finally seen the light? Might she actually – dare I say it? – be _warming up to James Potter?_" Well, if everyone's going to act like that, I suppose I should just forget it.

"No. Lily was contemplating not being such a negative asshole, but apparently she has every right to be one."

"I was just kidding, Lil. You know that." Yeah, whatever.

"Have fun telling Marlene that when I was finally about to come around after all these years of her therapy, _you _were the one who ruined it all."

"Oh, just go out there and talk to him. If you won't date him, then at least tell him Marlene was lying. Don't lead him on like this because, Lily, that is the worst thing you can do to him." Allie says, looking me straight in the eye with her exasperated glare.

"Ugh. I don't know. I feel bad for having to make him get all excited or whatever and then say, 'Nope, it was a joke!' I just don't want to have to face that." I mutter and plop on my back.

"He isn't stupid. He won't believe it until he hears it out of your mouth." Oh well. It can't kill me, can it?

"Fine." And with the feeling that I'm walking up the steps to the gallows, I walk down the stairs.

--

He isn't in the common room when I go down there, so I guess he went to breakfast. Which is going to make this even more embarrassing and life-ruining. But I head to the Great Hall anyway. And he's sitting there with all of his friends.

So I steel myself up and start to walk purposefully… right past him and toward Jenn. I can't help it if I'm a coward when it comes to emotional crap. Give me boggarts, give me Death Eaters, give me those creepy red caps that scare the bejesus out of me, just don't give me emotional problems and other people's feelings. Unfortunately, he sees me.

"Evans, can I talk to you?" He says in a surprisingly serious voice. And there's the noose…

"Yeah, sure." Trying to look like I don't know what's going on, I follow him out of the hall. Oh, thank God. I don't have to make a scene. In an empty corridor, he stops and turns to me.

"Is what McKinnon said true?"

And there goes the floor, and I'm dead. I'm also scared and speechless. I don't want to say no, but I sure as hell don't want to say yes. So I suppose I have to pick the lesser of two evils. Only I'm not sure which is worse.

Wait.

Since when do I care about Potter's feelings? I've turned him down millions of times. Why is it so hard now?

"No." I look away, trying not to see the way his face has fallen, or hear the sigh.

"I figured as much. Why did she say that, anyway?"

"It's a long story. I tried to stop her, but she didn't listen." It doesn't feel like I've said enough. "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to get your hopes up like that."

"Why can't you just say yes for once?" Funny. He doesn't sound arrogant like he usually does when listing reasons why I should date him. "Am I really that repulsive to you that you can't even give it a chance?"

No. I'm…

Dammit. I'm just afraid. I'm afraid he'll break my heart just like they said I was. And I don't want to get involved with someone who's just going to run off as soon as he gets bored.

"Look, there are a lot of reasons, none of which I want to discuss when I'm going to be late to class in five minutes." I say and make an attempt to escape, which he doesn't allow. He grabs my arm and pulls me closer to him.

"Tell me one." I try to glare at the hand currently cutting off my circulation, but it doesn't really work. I'm too tired, too embarrassed, and not angry enough to pull off a hand-removing glare.

I sigh. "Because you're too full of yourself." He looks taken aback. "You think I was joking all those times I screamed at you last year? You don't think of others, you just do what you want to do and I can't stand that. You don't show consideration for other people, you act like everything's a joke, and most of all, you expect me to say yes." I'm feeling a bit angry now, but it's strange. I'm just saying the words, not screaming them, not crying them, not beating them into his skull. "And until you can learn that I will not be taken for granted by anyone in anything, I will not date you. Get it through your head." With that, I tear my arm out of his grip and storm away.

As I leave, though, I hear him.

"And what if I did change? Or would you even notice?"

What a stupid question. Of course I'd notice.

…

Wouldn't I?

--

Now I can't stop thinking about that. I mean, the more I think about it, the more I realize that maybe I wouldn't notice if he changed. I don't really watch what he does anymore. And then, there's the first part. Is he really going to change who is he so I'll like him? Would he really go that far?

I mean, there aren't many guys who would do that. Fewer than ten worldwide, I'd guess. And one of them is apparently chasing me.

"Lily, you've been staring at that page for an hour." Jenn mumbles from beside me. I look up and see this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher heading down the row. "I'm on page seventy-three, if you want to make it look like you've been reading." Thank God for best friends. I casually turn the pages toward seventy-four (so it doesn't look too obvious), making it look like I just glanced back at page twenty for my health.

"Miss Evans," Professor Carlisle says as he reaches my desk. The man is out to get me, and I think he's just been given his chance. And I thought I was hanging this morning… "Why don't you give the class a summary of the chapter we've just read?" I turn sheet white and begin to stutter.

"Well, ah, the… uh, the chapter is… uh, is on…" I glance down at my page and the words 'Demagrius Charm' are the only words that leap out at me. And I have no idea what in Hades the Demagrius Charm is supposed to be. "Uh…"

"Why are you making her give us a summary on it?" A voice from the back calls, and a wave of relief engulfs me as I turn along with the rest of the class to see who spoke up. Oh. It's Potter. "It's not like we haven't read the chapter. We've only been staring at it for an hour." He sounds annoyed and bored, and I think he's the only person in the entire class with the guts to stand up so directly to Carlisle. I mouth a thanks to him but he doesn't acknowledge it.

"And I suppose you'd like to summarize it for the class in lieu of your girlfriend, Mister Potter?" A few students look interested.

"Sorry, but my girlfriend isn't in this class." He said coldly. Yup, that's the feeling of being a total bitch.

Wa-a-ait a second. He has a girlfriend? Since when?

Carlisle looks mad, but goes on. "Detention tomorrow night for your cheek, Mister Potter, and would you please summarize the chapter for the class?"

He sighs, and I think he curses under his breath. "It's about the Demagrius Charm," Hey, I got part of it right. "which is the spell to change an animagus in its animal form back to being human. It's a clever trick to use to be sure that no one's eavesdropping, even if it is tedious." Pretty smart. And I knew that. Yeah.

…He has a girlfriend?

"Thank you, Mister Potter. Miss Evans, don't expect your little friend to save you like this every time you spend my class period staring at him." Again, most of the class looks interested in the idea that I was ogling over him. Which I wasn't.

"That would have been a bit hard, seeing as I was looking at my book and he's sitting behind me."

Oh, shite. I said that out loud, didn't I? I hear more than a few titters, but they get silenced quickly by Carlisle's look of fury.

"You can join Mister Potter in detention tomorrow night, Miss Evans, eight o'clock and don't be late." Then the bell rings and I can leave before I cause my record even more damage. Thank God for small favors. I think I might have just died back there.

As I leave the classroom, I see Potter walking out with his friends, laughing and Sirius teasing Potter for something or other.

…He has a girlfriend.

Doesn't that mean that he's giving up on me?

…I'm not dancing.

Dammit.

--0--0--0--0--0--0—

**(A/N: -cough- It only took me most of a month. Sorry. Button to your down, please?)**


	8. This Means War

**(A/N: Thanks to beblaspanksyou, ourlittlesecret7, and midnight-vortex for reviewing, and to Flame-sama and Me-HyperCrazyWierdGeeky (have I seen you under a different screenname before?) for favorites-ing this.  
Oh, and… uh… Okay, there's been a lot of crap going on, which is my excuse for not working on this. I hate going nearly a month without updating, but… Well, it happens. Sorry.  
Oh, and Angela Davis _might _be based off someone I know. Then again, I'm sure we all know one. Even if she is quite extremely cliché'd. She was fun to write.)**

_Summary:_ My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

_Disclaimer: HA!_

Quote of the Chapter: "When he's underwater, does he get wet, or does the water get him instead?" –Particle Man, They Might Be Giants

--0--0--0--0--0--0--

**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Eight: This Means War

I, Lily Elizabeth Evans, shall not dwell on the fact that James Potter has a girlfriend, even if she is a slutty, slutty, whore and I am at full liberty to do so. And I'm not even saying that because she's dating him (which, and let's be honest here, she'd probably have to be), no. I actually know this slutty, slutty, whore.

Angela Davis, of Hufflepuff house, and she truly does give "House of the Badger" a whole new meaning.

Angela Davis likes to wear her skirts torn off at about three centimeters from those jutting knives she calls her hips, wears the highest, most god-awfully pointy heels that I could probably stab someone to death with, that must shred her toes to little bits (but of course they don't, because she wears her flip-flops on Hogsmeade weekends – in the FREEZING COLD – and shows off her nice, perfect pedicure. I have never in my life had a pedicure, nor have I ever worn flip-flops, nor those black lacy thongs that she just _loves _to show off. My toes and my butt do not need flossing, thanks.) She also wears extremely tight, incredibly revealing tank tops (how she gets away with it, I can only hope I don't know) that she's practically falling out of all in my face.

Because Angela Davis is also in most of my classes, the whore. I've worked every charm for three years with her. Or, rather, I've worked on every charm for three years while she makes googly eyes at every guy in the room (except Snape, but that wasn't for lack of trying. I think his "venomous glare" – and yes, he's named them – scorched a hole right through her cleavage, so she stopped) and insists to Flitwick that she did all the work while I sat there and looked ugly.

I hate her.

"Angela Davis?" Marlene asks, staring down the table disdainfully. "Well, the only reason any sane man who didn't want some serious STDs would ever willingly date that whore is either, 1. Very, very desperate to get some," She glances back toward us to see disbelieving looks. "You're right. He'd never get _that _desperate. Therefore, it must be option number two."

There's a long pause. Jenn looks around.

"Which is…?" Marlene grins.

"He is trying to make Lily jealous."

"Judging by the look on her face, he's doing a pretty damn good job of it." I glare at Allie.

"Yeah right." The whore. "They deserve each other."

"Now, Lily." Marlene says seriously, slapping her hand on the table. "I know you claim to hate him and all, but the only person Angela Davis should be allowed to date is a dementor."

"Bet that'd be a great first kiss. 'Ooh, Demmy, you just suck all the life out of me!'" Jenn yelps, tearing up and dropping her head onto her arms, shaking with laughter.

There's a moment of silence before Allie snorts and I burst into laughter. Marlene actually falls out of her seat, howling at Jenn's incredibly lame joke. They're funnier that way.

--

"What was so funny, Evans?" Interchangeable Slytherin Black Number Three (what's her name again? Bell something?) asks as we all walk into Transfiguration about ten minutes later. "Surely you've noticed Potter's new infatuation." I glance behind me to where the Whore is leaning all over Potter, who looks somewhat disturbed. For some reason, all I can see is her making out with a dementor, and it makes me laugh.

"Yeah, why?" Interchangeable Slytherin Black Number Three looks surprised.

"You aren't furious?" She asks. "Well, maybe the mudblood has a brain after all."

"What, did you want her? Oh, I'm terribly sorry…" Dammit, what's her name? "…Black, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait your turn with Angela. It looks like she's got a boyfriend." With that, I grin evilly and take a seat, pretending not to hear Interchangeable Slytherin Black Number Three hiss that I'm to be added to the "list".

Maybe I should be a bit worried. But I'm in a good mood today. Amazingly.

Today is a good day. They had French Toast for breakfast, I got to laugh at Angela, Potter looks like he's seriously regretting asking her out, and I understand what's going on in Transfiguration for once. Funny that I can only have a good day when it seems like everyone else has a few sticks up their arses. Oh well. I'm happy.

Oh, look. The Whore is making more googly eyes at Sirius, who looks even less happy about Potter's dating her than Potter does. It appears that Lupin is ignoring her and Pettigrew is trying to stare down her shirt (he's too short to pull this off without being obvious, though, poor thing).

"MISS DAVIS!" Angela yelps and turns to McGonagall. Jenn snorts, and Angela glares at her.

"Yes, Professor?" She says in her best sugary voice, apparently forgetting that McGonagall is, in fact, female and thus is immune to her showing off her chesticular area. Is that even a word?

"First, I would appreciate it if you would quit showing your wares to the entire class." An audible 'oooh' goes around the room, which McGonagall silences with a look. Angela looks confused. Ah, the idiotic whore. "Second, that outfit is entirely inappropriate for this class. Go change."

"But, professor -!"

"Now, Miss Davis." McGonagall hisses through clenched teeth. Angela huffs.

"Well, can James walk me there?" McGonagall raises an eyebrow, and Potter mutters something that sounds like "I have to learn." I can barely contain my laughter.

"Oh, don't be stupid, James, you know everything about Transfiguration." Potter looks remarkably like a deer in headlights as she tries to make her already obvious meaning more evident.

"Miss Davis, unless you've forgotten the way to your own common room – which Mister Potter shouldn't know the way to anyway – I highly doubt you need his help. And Miss Davis," she adds as Angela starts to slut-walk out of the room, "ten points from Hufflepuff for attempting to make sexual connotations during my class."

"Attempting?" Sirius asks as soon as the door shuts on her hussy ass. "Professor, that wasn't attempting anything, that was blatant, blatant dog-in-heat sexual connotations."

"Don't make me take off points for your crude language, Black." He grins, anyway.

"Point taken, Professor."

--

"Okay, James, this has got to stop." I overhear from Lupin as we leave Transfiguration, Angela still having not gotten back. "I don't care how much you think she'll piss Lily off, I might just kill her if she touches my thigh one more time."

I grin. Well, it seems that Marlene was right after all.

"I'm telling you, it's not going to work." Sirius cuts in. "Evans isn't stupid, and she knows you aren't either. I heard her friends talking about it. They've figured it all out. Just dump her so we don't have to deal with her stupid voice anymore."

Jenn, standing beside me, is doubled over laughing. I decide to end this discussion.

"Well, I never thought I'd see the day when Sirius Black didn't want to get into an easy girl's pants." I say cheerfully, walking through them. Potter is turning steadily redder. Sirius coughs.

"And have a nice day." Jenn adds, catching up with me at the same time as Marlene, and starts filling her in. Marlene begins to cheer.

"I knew it! Oh, I am SO awesome!" She shouts, and begins to strut. It's rather funny, actually. She looks like she's got something caught in her pants. I tell her as much, earning myself a glare and a laugh from Jenn, who quickly hides it in a cough.

"I think it's funny, though I shouldn't have said anything. It was just starting to get interesting." I check the hall for Peeves (a habit dating back to first year when I got covered in ink, parchment, and green paint thanks to him) and start down the stairs, not realizing that my friends have stopped. I turn at the base of the stairs. "What?"

"Oh, don't pull that, Lily." Marlene growls. "I know you weren't happy about this whole Angela fiasco."

"Actually, I thought it was rather funny. Or did you mistake my hysterical peals of laughter for tears?" Marlene begins to storm toward me.

"You are so… so…" She seems to be having difficulty getting the words out.

"Stupid?" Jenn offers from behind her.

"IDIOTIC!" Marlene shrieks. I take a step back. "Just give him a chance, for God's sake! It'd be easier that way, anyway. If he is, as you say, chasing you for the chase, then dating him to shut him up won't do you any damage will it? Or are you just that proud that you can't possibly go against your rampant denials?" Jenn and I both stare at her, along with half the school.

"Uh… Marlene?" Allie pipes tentatively, coming out of the crowd.

"WHAT?" She screams again. Allie's eyes look like they're about to pop out of her head, but she goes on anyway. Brave woman.

"Why does this mean so much to you?" People, who were starting to disperse before Marlene went insane and started screeching all over the place, lean in closer to hear her answer.

"Because it's pissing me off." She hisses.

"But…" Allie continues, bewildered. "But… why?"

"I don't know, but she'd better calm down quickly," I say, feeling extremely incensed all of a sudden. "Because I'm not listening to this." With that, I turn and storm toward Potions, my (our) next class.

"What? Too afraid that I'm right?" She calls after me. I hear Jenn mutter, "just drop it, Marlene" and Allie's footsteps following me.

"Listen, Lily, I know she was out of line to do that so… loudly… but maybe she has a point. Why _can't _you just give him a chance?"

I pause, my anger dissipating. Allie has that ability; she can cool anyone down just by being around them. It's a good thing, considering me and Marlene.

"…Because that'd mean he's won." I sigh, and look her in the face. "And I won't let him win because I got sick of it."

"But maybe if you just gave it a shot, it could work. You never know. Maybe you could love him." That's a scary thought. Me loving James Potter. I don't _even _want to imagine what our kids would look like…

"I just don't think it's worth it, Marlene. You know the way he is, always getting bored. I would hate to get into something, find that yeah, I could love him, and then get tossed aside like I didn't mean anything." It's the first time I've admitted it, even though everyone's been saying it for a while. Allie looks thoughtful.

"I don't know. I can't see why anyone would chase a girl for five and a half, almost six years, just to throw them away when they get bored."

"Yeah, well, I can't see why anyone would chase a girl for five and half, almost six years, period."

"You're very skeptical, you know that?" She counters, and then plows on. "Maybe it wouldn't be that bad." She sighs. "Oh well. I guess it doesn't really matter."

There's a moment of silence. "Why doesn't it really matter?" I ask softly. Allie turns.

"Because…" She says quietly. "Because it doesn't, does it? If it's meant to be, then I suppose it'll happen, won't it? No matter how long you put it off or act afraid of it. And if it's not meant to be, well then, no loss, right?"

"Oh, that's right. You believe in fate and true love and all that, don't you?" She sighs.

"In a nutshell." I open my mouth to ask her to elaborate, but the hall is starting to fill with people waiting on Slughorn to start the next class, and I don't want to cause another scene.

--

I am going to tear Angela Davis's stupid horribly dyed hair out of her head by those mucky brown roots the next time I see her. I don't know how that bitch did it, but she managed to get into my room and she stuck three live flobberworms under my sheets.

Why? What did she think this would accomplish? And today was such a good day…

And she knows how much I hate flobberworms; we had to work on them together in third year Care of Magical Creatures. I think that's why she did it. That bitch!

So, it's three-thirty-four AM, and I'm sitting on the couch in the common room, glaring into the fire and trying to remove the feeling of squashed flobberworm from my body. And why did it take until three-thirty-four AM, you ask? Because she put them under the fitted sheet, which meant that they got squashed when I laid down. I thought it was just that the mattress was being particularly ornery today, but no. The flobberworm juices managed to squelch their way out from under my fitted sheet and all over me.

I feel disgusting.

This calls for some serious revenge, Lily-style. I am going to make her rue the day she ever laid eyes on Lily Elizabeth Evans if it's the last thing I do. Even if I must make amends with Marlene or descend to asking Sirius Black for help on it to do so.

This means war.  
-  
**(A/N: Sorry it's short, but I like the way that ends, it lets me open up a whole new chapter. Again, sorry for the delay. Review if you like.  
Anyone want to beta? I've never used one before, so I really have no idea how it works, but I'm willing to give it a shot…)**


	9. Feathers and Personal Lubricant

**(A/N: Okay, who wants to kill me? Sorry for that month of no updating again. But this is one of my favorite chapters, and that's saying something after Chapter 4.**

**And, ourlittlesecret7: You shall see.)**

_Summary:_ My name is Lily Evans and I hate a lot of things. In fact, my friends have compiled a detailed list of all the things I hate, taking up 17 rolls of parchment, 3 paper cups, 6 napkins, and 2 t-shirts, but they pay special attention to James Potter and relieving me of my hatred of him. They have been paying such attention to him for the past 5 and a half years. I have come to the conclusion that it's their life's mission to get me to date him. Over my dead body.

_Disclaimer: HA!_

Quote of the Chapter: "Even the best fall down sometime, even the wrong words seem to rhyme, out of the doubt that fills your mind, you finally find that you and I collide." -Collide, Howie Day

--0--0--0--0--0--0--

**Hate is Such a Strong Word**

Chapter Nine: Feathers and Personal Lubricant

"Okay."

All three of my roommates perk up (Marlene tries to act like she isn't because of yesterday's little spat – which seems kind of stupid in light of recent events) to hear what I've got to say about the flobberworm intestines residing all over my bed and body and hair.

"We need revenge." I say.

"Well, obviously." Marlene replies, rolling her eyes and taking a seat on Allie's bed next to Jenn, dropping all pretenses of not listening. "The question is, how far do we need to go?"

"Far."

"Really far."

"Make her regret ever setting eyes on me." Allie, Jenn, and I all say at the same time. Marlene grins wickedly. "What do you have in store?" I continue, leaning forward, forgetting all about yesterday.

"Well, we're going to need…"

--

"I think we might have to enlist the help of the Marauders for this one, Lily. I know you don't like that, but this is a full-scale operation." Jenn mutters, clutching the bag of chicken feathers, newly acquired from a very bemused (and very drunk) Hagrid. "Do you think Marlene will even be able to get that muggle stuff?"

"Oh, she'll get it. You know Marlene; she has all sorts of things up her sleeve. Now, we need to get these back to our dorm without event, or it'll all come down. I wish I knew some secret passages…" I hiss, glancing around the corner surreptitiously.

"Here, Lils." Jenn says, looking around. "You go to the library and help Allie look up that spell. I'll find a way to get these back. McGonagall loves me; she'll buy whatever story I make up. But you're covered in feathers and flobberworm guts. It'll look really obvious if you're with me."

"Oh, because I don't stick out anyway. Look, let's just get out of here as fast as – Hello, Remus!" I grin cheerily as he turns the corner. He wrinkles his nose immediately.

"Jenn, Lily… What is all over you?" I hesitate and glance at Jenn. Remus hates Angela. Remus is trustworthy. Remus has access to a bunch of secret passages. Remus might help us.

But… Remus is also a Prefect. Jenn purses her mouth as we both contemplate what to do next.

"Uh… What's with all the furtive glances and what are you planning to do with me?" Remus demands as we drag him into a less open corridor.

"We're going to need your help." We say at the same time, ignoring his look of absolute horror.

"With what?" I open my mouth, but he cuts me off. "Do I want to know?"

"Depends." Jenn says. "How much do you hate Angela Davis and how well can you keep a secret?"

--

"This is insane." Remus hisses as he leads us down a secret passage that I never knew existed. "You realize that you're going to get caught?"

"Doubtful. The teachers won't expect us and there's no way they'll be able to tell who got feathers from the school chickens; Hagrid was pissed out of his skull." Jenn rattles off; ticking the reasons this wasn't going to get us expelled off her fingers. "Whatever that stuff is that Marlene is getting is strictly muggle and even we don't know how she plans to get it, so even if someone does recognize what it is, they won't be able to pin it on her, and Lily knows of a clever little spell so the beard hex can't be traced back to any of our wands, so we're in the clear. All we have to do is keep our faces straight and lie like a rug. And, for your part in helping us, you get all of my Christmas chocolate frogs, so you'd better keep your mouth shut, Lupin."

Remus stares at her, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

"Of course we have," I scoff, "This is revenge we're talking about. You thought we'd take something like this lightly?"

"Well… no. But you've come up with better subterfuge than all of us Marauders put together and that's saying something." Remus whispers. "Where are the others?"

"Allie's in the library, researching how to time spells. She said that she saw something about it once and offered to check it out. Marlene is organizing our getting that muggle stuff… What is it called again?" Jenn asks, turning to me.

"K-Y Jelly." I reply. Remus turns to me suddenly.

"And what do you plan to do with that?"

"Oh, so you've heard of it!" I laugh. Jenn looks confused. "It's a… how would you describe it?"

"It's a personal lubricant with warming gel." Remus says, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Huh?"

"You know what married people use Vaseline for?" I ask. Jenn wrinkles her nose as we leave the passage.

"Yes."

"It's the same thing. Only it also has a warming gel, which is supposed to add pleasure or something."

"And how would Marlene know about this stuff?"

"I'm not sure. I've seen it in my parents' bedroom – scarred me for life, by the way."

"But what do you plan to do with it?" Remus asks apprehensively.

"Spread it all over the floor. Make her walk in it." He looks a bit disgusted.

"And that's when the beard hex goes off?"

"Yup. And then the feathers fall, so she's covered in all of it." I say smugly.

"Now, where does this take place?"

"Great Hall, breakfast of tomorrow, if we can get it together soon enough."

"She's going to hate you."

"Good." I say as we walk into the common room. Sirius looks a little surprised to see us, though whether it's because Remus is with us or because I'm covered in flobberworm guts and chicken feathers, I'm not sure.

"Hey, Moony. What's this? You and Roberts don't have anything going on, do you?" He says and wiggles his eyebrows. Remus rolls his eyes. "And, uh, Lily… Trying out a new fashion statement, are we?"

"Oh, Sirius. You're so behind the times. Flobberworm guts are all the rage in France." I reply sarcastically.

"Ha ha." He deadpans. "So, what's in the bag?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Jenn says mysteriously and we walk away. "Remember, Lupin: Not a word."

"What's this 'not a word' business?" I hear Sirius say as we head up the stairwell. Remus stutters. I turn to Jenn.

"What do you think? Can Black be trusted?"

"Hmm." She muses, sitting on the windowsill. "I don't know. He's awfully rowdy and loud-mouthed, but he's got some good ideas and I'm sure he'd be a lot of help." There's a moment of silence.

"We'll ask Marlene."

--

"No."

"Oh, come on, 'Lene. You know he could be a lot of help." Jenn prods.

"No. We don't need his help, I don't trust him, and is there any specific reason you want to be around Black?" Jenn rolls her eyes.

"God forbid. We went through that once, remember? Not going through a repeat of third year."

"Don't you mean one week of third year?" I say, scourgifying my bed and flopping onto it. Jenn snorts. We're referring to Jenn's ill-fated romance with Sirius almost four years ago. It's a piece of history most of us try to ignore ever happened, including Sirius and Jenn. There's no love lost between the two of them anymore. It was really annoying when she was infatuated with him, though. She never shut up about it. "Anyway, Marlene, how did procurement of the jelly go?"

"It's all sorted out. I should get it tonight, and I think we can probably get this show on the road by midnight. There's still a problem, though."

"What?" Jenn asks, sitting up.

"How are we going to set this up without being seen? I mean, the teachers patrol the halls. They're bound to notice us." We all pause, thinking, as Allie continues to flip through the library book she brought back up when she got sick of Snape oozing all over her.

Did I mention that Snape has an all-too-obvious crush on Allie?

Um, eew.

"Ah-hah!" Allie suddenly yells, jumping up. "Here we go… Oh, this is simple."

"Found it?" Marlene asks unnecessarily.

"Yeah. It'll be easy. Just leave it up to me." She marks the page and sets it on her nightstand. "So, what about this whole 'teachers-will-see-us thing'? How are we supposed to get around this?"

"Wait a second…" I say, something dawning on me. I remember once, last year, when I was in one of my better moods, asking Potter how he managed to trail me without ever getting caught for stalking. He had replied, trying to be all mysterious and crap, that he had 'ways of getting around the school unseen'. Well, if Potter has these ways, why wouldn't the rest of the Marauders? Why wouldn't, say, Remus?

I tell the others as much. Marlene looks giddy.

"So. Lily, you have to either convince Remus to tell us how to do it… or… you can coerce James into giving it to you. He's practically in love with you, he'll do whatever you ask!"

Jenn grins. Allie grins. Marlene grins. I frown.

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Just tell him what we're planning. He hates Angela. He'll tell you." I give Marlene a skeptical look.

"He's dating Angela. Do you think he'll honestly just let me make a fool out of his girlfriend in front of the whole school? And, weren't you against letting the Marauders in on this, like, three seconds ago?" Marlene brushes it off.

"Then tell him you'll meet him on the Astronomy tower at, I dunno, 1 AM and you'll need a way to get there without letting the whole school know. He'll definitely fall for that one." Jenn snorts at Marlene's idea.

"Oh, come on. He'd have to be a fool to believe that…"

--

James Potter has an INVISIBLITY CLOAK, which is currently in my possession. I decided to ask Remus about the first idea before resorting to the second (because, really, that'd be a little too mean and I'm not that cruel), and he actually laughed when I asked if he'd be angry.

"Angry? You think he'd be angry? Lily, he'd probably kiss you. Not that he wouldn't do that anyway, but you get the point. Look, I'll get it for you. He won't mind, trust me."

So, now I've got the invisibility cloak.

"My God, I never knew he had this…" Jenn says. "From now on, I'm locking the door every time I take a shower." I pause.

"Why thank you, Jenn. Now I feel horribly violated."

"Oh, relax." Allie pipes from her bed, where she's tossing a tennis ball up and down, a habit of hers. "An invisibility cloak doesn't give you the ability to walk through walls. If he'd sneaked in while you were in the shower, you'd know." Both of us sigh in relief.

Now all that's left to do is wait until midnight, when our plan gets set in action. We've already got it all worked out. The invisibility cloak is too small for all of us to hide under, so only Allie and I are going to do the actual setting up of the revenge. Jenn and Marlene will act as guards, making sure that if any teachers start toward us, we'll be able to hide. Remus will be on hand to divert the teacher with what he calls a "foolproof excuse".

This is going to be perfect.

--

Except for one tiny thing.

Lots of people come into the Great Hall in the morning, including us.

Um, oops?

--

"Well, I must say, for a prank to backfire so spectacularly, you're handling this surprisingly well." Potter says, laughter evident in his voice as he glances up from the trophy he's polishing opposite me.

Apparently, McGonagall didn't buy for an instant that he had nothing to do with this prank, and assigned him detention along with all of his friends and all of mine. We got landed in the trophy room, Sirius and Allie got stuck mopping up the mess in the Great Hall, Remus and Marlene have to help Slughorn organize his potions ingredients and Jenn and Pettigrew are helping Hagrid sort out next week's lessons on fire crabs. I don't envy that one. In fact, I think Potter and I got off lightly. Not with McGonagall, though. She was furious. Though it had been funny to see her shrieking her head off, covered in K-Y Jelly and feathers, with a beard to match Dumbledore's.

Speaking of Dumbledore, the old headmaster had taken the prank rather well. Actually, I think he laughed harder than Sirius when Professor Slughorn went skidding down the aisle, feathers flying.

It was pretty funny.

But I'm not about to admit that James Potter.

"Oh, come on." He says consolingly. "You only got a detention, that's not so bad. And you did get Angela. You just…" He chokes down laughter, "got everyone else too. It really was a glorious prank, worthy of us, I'd say."

"It was Marlene's idea." I mutter, unwilling to have any blame falling on me when James Potter is comparing me to himself. I was not jealous of Angela. I was not jealous of Angela.

And now, facing his laughing face, I kind of believe it.

"So? You were part of it. What did you want to get back at Angela so bad for?"

"She put three flobberworms in my bed." I hiss. James pauses, laughter dying.

"…Did she?" He sounds suddenly nervous. I look up. "Because Sirius got a bunch of flobberworms in Care of Magical Creatures the other day…"

"Sirius?" Uh-oh. I could have sworn Angela did that. Then again, I really didn't have any proof. I just… wanted it to be Angela. But Sirius makes more sense.

…I'm gonna kill him.

"Yeah. What made you think it was Angela?" He asks, scrubbing a Special Services to the School award.

"She seems the type. And she knows I hate flobberworms, she had the time and opportunity when McGonagall kicked her out of class."

"Yeah, but she doesn't know our password."

"It wasn't much a stretch to think you'd told her." He looks up, pushes his glasses higher on his nose and shrugs.

"Maybe. But I really don't like her enough to have done that."

"I know." I turn away and start scrubbing a plaque of some sort.

"Listen, Lily, I know we don't have the best history, but –" He's cut off as the plaque I was polishing crashes to the ground, making contact with my hip, knee, and toe on the way down. I wince. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounds unnaturally high-pitched. "I didn't need that foot anyway." I grab onto the shelf, willing myself not to cry. Dear God, what do they make those things out of anyway, solid lead? There's a hand on my elbow, and Potter is standing by my side, leading me to a chair.

"Are you sure you're okay? You look like you're in a lot of pain."

"I'm FINE. Just… leave me alone for a second." He pauses, then sighs.

"Okay."

I know, I know. Making the plaque fall right as he was about to ask me out is a little suspect. But I didn't knock it down. It fell with no help from me.

WHAM!

"OUCH!"

…See?

"Are you okay?"

"What do they make these out of? Jesus, that hurt!" I try to stifle my laughter as Potter limps over to the seat next to me.

"I'm thinking solid lead."

"No kidding." He rubs his toe and bites his lip, pale with pain. "Why did it fall?"

"Must be something wrong with the spell holding it to the wall…" I mutter and start to get up, forgetting that my foot wants none of that and fall right back, gasping in pain. Potter laughs.

"They use nails in here."

Oh. Well. Someone laughs outside and we both turn at the same time. I don't recognize the voice, but apparently Potter does. He clutches his forehead with the hand not cradling his foot and groans.

"All right, Stephens. You've had your fun. Now go away." A third year whose name I didn't know until just now walks in.

"Aww, come on. I was just getting started."

"Go. Now."

"Fine." He says under his breath and starts out the door, glancing back at me on his way out. "Hey, uh, Evans. If you'd like to get a piece of this, I'll be waiting." And he winks just as Potter throws the plaque at him, missing his head by inches.

"I'll keep that in mind." I reply in a tone that clearly says "over my dead body", but Stephens doesn't pick it up. Neither does Potter, for that matter. Suddenly, the third year looks ecstatic and Potter looks furious.

Oh, my God.

What have I gotten myself into?


End file.
